The Light of His Life
by CrawfordsBiscuits
Summary: Erik took Christine in as a child... but he never thought of her as a daughter. His feelings were a mystery even unto himself. And now that she's an adult... EC
1. Chapter 1: The Light of His Life

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO…

**A/N: **I started writing this a while ago and thought I'd post it now in the New Year. It's set in Britain, and though Erik's a teacher, it isn't much to do with a school. It merely provides him with the opportunity to catch sight of his beloved on a regular basis and the ability to keep her trust. Erik's last name is an English name, and, if I can say nothing else, it has never been used by anyone else before on here, as far as I'm aware. It isn't French like most people make his name – I decided he should have an English name so that he could also have an English background. Of course, in my other chapter-phic, Erik has the same name…

**Summary: **Erik sees a four-year-old Christine for the first time and can never let her go. She was the light of his life even before she was the woman he loved as a wife. He has to fight for custody of her, for her love and again when Fate threatens to steal her from him once and for all. EC Modern day AU

Please read and review… I'll update soon if you like it.

**Chapter 1: The Light of His Life…**

In a darkened room in the heart of a grand house in Hertfordshire, early evening, a masked, middle-aged man sat silently and almost in disinterest. He was alone in the living room, enshrouded in the shadows, watching the flames in the fireplace as they started to lull and become ever smaller. With a great deal more interest, he observed as an exquisite young woman gracefully descended the staircase just outside the door, utterly fascinated by her beauty. He watched as she bent forward to pick a soft cashmere scarf off of the chair, her lovely long hair falling forward and blocking his view of her face until she stood again, her elegant hands wrapping the material around her supple neck. At the risk of sounding cliché, he wished he could _be_ that scarf…

Before she had entered his line of vision, he had been watching the fire for some time, reminding him of his life – the excited and enthusiastic start, believing he could be anything at all; then the gradual realisation that he was living a dream and the fading of his passion for life… like he was burning out. Eventually to fade away like the fire, without notice – after all, it would be as before with just one less creature absorbed in self-pity as they went on… just as before. He would not be missed, he was sure… not noteworthy enough to receive the luxury of being remembered. No, he would be overlooked…

But not her – not her…

The young beauty entered the room, catching sight of the man in the armchair. "Oh, there you are, Angel," she smiled.

As the last tiny ember died without spectacle, the man sighed sorrowfully and stood, walking to the precious creature before him as she stood in the doorway, waiting patiently. She was… _stunning_. And he loved her… had done for years… as long as he'd known her, in fact… She was the light of his life…

_

* * *

Erik Phelps-Jones stood by the window of his classroom, staring out at the precious four-year-old angel who was playing outside in the junior playground with the rest of the nursery class. He had loved her since the moment she had been brought to the school a few months back though he could not explain it. It was confusing to him, having never loved anyone before, to just suddenly love this precious little creature at his first knowledge of her very existence. _

_His was an unusual school – it served as three levels of education rolled into one with a building for the nursery class, a connected one for the primary classes and another one for the secondary classes. So, all in all, there were children from the age of four up to eighteen taught by different sets of teachers in the school… and Erik taught the secondary classes, which left him little able to have any contact with the angel known as Christine._

_Mrs. Ada Giry taught the nursery class and it was especially enjoyable this year now that her daughter, Meghan, was a part of the class. Meghan's best friend and the daughter of Ada's closest friends also started school that year – her name was Christine Daaé and she and Meg had known each other since they were babies. The two of them were born only a couple of months apart and were very close – Meg, the elder of them, even at four looked out for her shier friend and they were often found together._

_Today, though, Meg had the chickenpox and was at home being looked after by her father, so, Christine was all on her own and was sitting by herself near the high gates as all the other children ran about happily… _

"_Sir?" somebody asked, snapping Erik back to reality as he realised that he'd been staring out of the window for some time and his class were wondering why he wasn't doing anything._

_He moved quickly back to his desk, offering no apology for his lapse in concentration as he believed that the class should be apologising to **him** for tearing his attention away from the angel outside. "As I was saying…" he said, pausing because he couldn't in fact remember what he had been saying and rested his hands together in front of him on the desk. "Oh, forget it… just go to study hall for the rest of the period and look over the notes I gave you."_

_He waited, covering his ears as they noisily packed up their things and left his room. Eventually he stood and left the room, himself, as he became determined to see Christine on her own, without Meg to crowd her. _

_A couple of classroom assistants were in the junior playground making sure that the children played safely during the break and they nodded at him as he passed, heading towards the lovely little girl playing by herself on the grass. He didn't know quite what he was going to say or what he expected to have in common with a four-year-old… but he could not allay the urge to be with her for whatever amount of time he could get away with. _

_Stopping by her feet, he crouched down onto his knees in front of her and felt his heart swell with love again unbidden as she looked up at him with her stunning blue eyes. She was absolutely **perfect**… A perfect little unknowing seraph as she innocently went back to playing with her little doll…_

"_I'm Erik," he said, lifting her chin with his hand to get her to look at him so that he could delight in her eyes again. "What's his name?" he asked, pointing to the doll in her hands._

_It was an unusual doll for a child to have – a figure of a man dressed in extravagant and obviously well-made robes with a full-face black mask bearing two white patches, one beneath each eye. "Cyrus…" she said in her delicate crystalline child's voice – a voice so pure that it caused his heart to swell even more at her perfection. "Daddy says, if I write a wish on his tears, it'll come true…"_

"_Does he?" he said, moving the corners of his lips up in a way he had not done more than a meagre couple of times in his whole life. He moved to sit down next to her on the grass, spreading his long legs out in front of him and giving in to a cherished urge to stroke her beautiful hair as he leaned back against the wrought-iron fence. "Your daddy's very clever, isn't he? But, why haven't you written a wish yet?"_

"_Don't have anything to wish for…"_

_He spent several entirely too brief minutes more with her until the bell rang for the end of break and Mrs. Giry came out to bring them in. Needless to say, she was rather surprised that Erik was sitting out there willingly in the presence of children who – as he thought – were loud and thoughtless and brash…_

"_Erik, what are you doing out here? You've worked here for twelve years and I've never known you to even step foot in the junior school…"_

"_I am committing no crimes by being here, madam, and I needn't have to explain myself…" he said, standing up defensively as she approached. He bent down briefly to help the little angel to his left up off the ground and watched wistfully as she walked away from him and back inside the building._

"_I wasn't accusing you of anything…" She looked confusedly at the peculiar expression on his face and turned around to see what he was staring at. But, when she looked back at Erik, he was gone…_

* * *

He brought his hands up to the young woman's shoulders, moving her hair out of her way as he stroked it affectionately. "What can I do for you, precious child?" 

"I was going to go see Meg," she said. "Have you seen my black coat, Angel? It's quite cold outside…"

_Her coat_, he mused happily. _That's all she wants… such a domestic_ _request_… He loved it…

Leading her by the hand towards the sofa, he picked her favourite coat up off of the back and helped her put it on. She made him feel so paternal, almost, that he surprised himself when he was with her… he'd never felt protective of anyone else before and, since she had come into his life, he had developed an amazing sense of caring and tenderness he had not realised was in him. "I'll drive you, sweetheart… it's dark and I don't want you going by yourself."

"Thank you, Angel…"

He led her to the car and opened her door for her as she got in the passenger side, before heading around to the driver's side, himself.

"Are you going to see Meg for anything in particular?" he asked when they were on the main road towards the Giry house.

"No, Angel, just the usual… actually, we might watch a film or something – I was just bored so I called her and she wasn't doing anything."

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself… Perhaps, when you get back, we could eat tea together – that is, if you've not already eaten with Meghan."

"I'd like that," she said sincerely, still looking out her window at the darkness outside. "What are you going to do while I'm out?"

"I'm not sure, child, but I expect I'll find some way of occupying myself… When do you want me to come get you?" he asked.

"Why don't you stay…? Meg's mum won't mind and I'd like you there… unless you're busy, of course."

"Never too busy for you, child…" he said, happy that she did not want rid of him.

Christine turned around to look at him as he drove and decided to broach an idea right there, while he was calm. "Angel? Is it alright if I ask Meg and a couple of other people to come over tomorrow? I promise I'll keep them out of your way and you won't even hear us…"

"It's fine, sweetheart…" he said softly, laughing that she thought him so much a recluse that he would not let her have her friends over.

When they got to Meg's house, Christine hopped out the car and hurried off to find Meg as Erik followed slowly behind her into the house. Just as Mrs. Giry came through to meet them, Christine came quickly back down the stairs again as she had forgotten something.

"Love you, Angel…" she said, kissing Erik goodbye on the cheek as was her wont. He had had to get used to those little displays of affection over the years, having never received such before, and he looked forward to each and every time she decided to bless him with her fondness.

"I love you, Christine," he returned as he watched her disappear up the stairs again.

"So she still calls you 'Angel'?" Ada asked.

* * *

"_It's called a metronome…" he said slowly to young girl next to him as they stood by his desk._

_It had been several months since the day in the playground when he had first spoken to her and he had started to visit her on a daily basis – whether it was before school in the playground or whenever he had a free class and she was outside. Sometimes he even had his lunch with her – though it meant he had to bear with Meg's presence too – and he brought her little pieces of mostly exotic fruits that she had never tried before. He had nothing against Meg but he did sometimes find her tedious when she held more of Christine's attention than he did and when she often overshadowed Christine with her own outgoingness. _

_Today, he had managed to catch Christine on her own at break and was making the most of it by keeping her to himself for the whole time. Unfortunately, the bell rang too soon for him to be satisfied and he groaned, lifting her up into his arms to take her back to the playground. _

_He rested her against his hip and he carried her through the corridors towards the junior part of the school as she laid her head against his shoulder sleepily. _

"_That your daughter, sir?" one of his older students asked as he passed a group of the girls in the hall._

_He stopped and turned to them. "No…"_

_But they seemed not to hear him and started fawning over her anyway. "Aw, she's gorgeous… can I hold her?"_

_Erik was having none of that… nobody would take her out of his arms for such a feeble reason. "I don't think so, Jessica – the first bell has rung and you should be heading to class…" They groaned and huffed away slowly, leaving him to find that the precious girl in his arms had fallen asleep against his shoulder, sucking her thumb. Oh, she was so… **adorable**._

_When he got outside again, he was met with a much more unwelcome sight… _

"_Erik, what the hell have you been doing with Christine? Don't you know how worried I was when I couldn't find her and nobody had seen her?" Ada shouted, waking Christine up. She blinked at Erik tiredly and he stroked her curls to soothe her._

"_I haven't done anything and I was not gone long…" he said defensively._

"_Regardless… **anything** could have happened to her and **I** am the one responsible for her – not you… I was just about to call the police and her parents… Erik, you can't just take her away like that…"_

"_What, exactly, do you suspect me of doing to her?" he said angrily. "Maybe you think I'm a sadist and I like hurting her… or a paedophile perhaps… a sexual deviant…?"_

"_I know you're not hurting her, Erik, but you cannot just take her without a thought for anyone else… And what do you expect me to make of this…? You take a sudden and passionate interest in a little girl when you have never taken any interest in children before…"_

"_Well, then… that just proves I am not attracted to children…" he said._

"_And this one in particular…?"_

"_I only took her to my car to–"_

"_You had her in your **car**…?" she said, cutting him off._

"_She wanted to hear what Bach sounded like…" _

"_Erik, she's four years old… does she even know who Bach is?"_

"_She has an intelligence beyond her years, madam, and her knowledge of music is extensive… her father has a lot to be proud of for getting so interested so young and for teaching her so much already. She has a voice to make angels weep…"_

"_That may well be, Erik, but it does not justify–"_

"_And then, I took her into my classroom and showed her my organ…" he said, ignoring her._

"_**What**?"_

"_Oh, do be quiet… your screeching is doing a number on my nerves." He produced another smile as Christine started giggling – smiling was something he found himself doing all the more readily now._

"_Angel, I'm tired…" she whispered against his shoulder when she stopped laughing._

"_I know, sweetheart…"_

"_**Angel**? She calls you 'Angel'?"_

"_After the Angel of Music her father told her a story about…" he explained, bored at the question. He turned back to Christine, "Goodbye, my little love… I'll see you tomorrow."_

_As he reluctantly relinquished his hold of her over to Mrs. Giry and started walking away, back into the senior building, she realised that he hadn't even apologised for his behaviour and that he obviously still thought he was entirely in the right. She sighed… there was no changing Erik – he would always take for himself what he wanted and would defend what he believed was his from anything – his own childhood had seen to that._

* * *

"It's been thirteen years, madam. What can I say…? Old habits die hard, I expect…" Erik said almost indifferently. Though, secretly, he loved that Christine still called him her Angel and he was always thrilled that she would say it in public and was not self conscious about it. 

"Can I get you something, Erik?" she asked. "Christine and Meg will be occupied up there for quite some time, no doubt…"

"I will be eating with Christine when we get home, madam. But, I would not turn down a cup of tea…"

"Alright," she said, leading him into the kitchen as she went about making them some tea and setting out a plate of biscuits. She would not offer to take his coat – which might have seemed rude to some – but she had known him long enough to be aware that the only person he was comfortable having behind him, and in an area he could not readily protect, was Christine. She knew he trusted that girl more than he'd ever trusted anyone… "And perhaps you'll sit down and answer a few of my questions…"

At once, he felt defensive, choosing not to sit anymore but to lean against the counter until she made herself clear. "Questions, madam…?"

"I just want to know how Christine's getting on – it has been so long since you've been in my presence long enough to have a conversation…" He did not often enjoy talking to another person… unless the conversation turned to Christine – a subject, on which, he was rather familiarised and well-versed.

"You know how she is getting on, madam – she is happy… if she were not, don't you think you would hear about it from Meg?"

"I'm not saying that she's unhappy, Erik – so you don't have to be so defensive of her… as you said, it's been thirteen years and she's seventeen now; _nobody_ can take her away from you." That seemed to calm him a great deal and she took the opportunity to get him to sit down and hopefully be a bit less distrustful. "It's been such a long time now, Erik, and I never thought to ask you – how do you think it's gone?"

"Gone, madam…?"

"You know, this would go by a lot faster if you didn't keep repeating the last word I say…"

"Well, how do _you_ think it's gone then, madam? Do enlighten me," he said sarcastically.

"From my perspective," she said, pausing to make sure she had Erik's full attention. "It could not have gone better… I don't think she would have been half as happy had she stayed with us – after all, she has had you all these years to dote upon her solely… whereas, I already had Meg to look after."

"Glad you think I've not completely buggered it up…" he said in a bored voice.

"Why is it so bloody difficult to have a conversation with you?"

"Christine manages…"

"Yes, well, you are not hanging upon my every word, are you?"

"I'll wait for Christine in the car…" he said coldly, standing up in anger. "I expect you'll tell her and not make her think I've just abandoned her to this place…"

"Sit down, Erik, and stop being so melodramatic. You can be _so _defensive at times…"

"You have always known that about me…"

"Christine seems able to handle you…" she said. "In fact, when you are with her, you are like an entirely different person."

"And who, exactly, am I then, madam?"

"She doesn't even realise what you are like with _everyone_ else, does she?" Ada said, ignoring his question. "She thinks you're all sweetness and light, _all_ of the time and not just with her, doesn't she? She probably thinks you are the sweetest man on the planet…"

"I _can_ be… with _her_. But, I did not come here to be insulted as I have been, more than once tonight…" he said, getting up again.

"She loves you," Ada said to get him to calm down again and sit as he waited to hear more.

Actually, he didn't so much _sit_ as _collapse_ upon the chair, his legs having given out beneath him. _How does one collapse** gracefully**? _Ada wondered. Well, _he_ managed…

"Do you really think so?" he asked in such a wildly different, child-like voice.

"She tells you enough, doesn't she?"

"There is a difference between saying and meaning, madam," he said, head bowed.

"So, when you tell her that you love her, I expect _you_ don't mean it either, then?"

"Don't be ridiculous… of course _I_ mean it."

"What makes you think that _she _doesn't? That you are the only person in the world, in fact, who can say it and mean it…"

"I didn't say that, madam, and I detest words being put in my mouth. I merely believe it has become a habit for her to tell me that she loves me and not a conscious decision to say so…"

He could still remember the first time she'd told him she loved him. It had been such a fleeting, natural response for her and a soul-changing one for him. While it had been said in the midst of such tragedy, he was not sure that she even meant to say it… she had been so young.

* * *

"_They're dead…" Ada sobbed over the phone. Her husband was sitting behind her, stroking her back to try to soothe her. They were both devastated…_

"_What?"_

"_They're dead, Erik… her parents are dead…"_

"_Where's Christine?" Erik asked immediately without even having to think about it._

"_It's alright, she's fine… she wasn't in the car at the time – she was here with Meg."_

"_Where is she now?"_

"_We've still got her here…"_

"_Have you told her? Does she know?" he asked, worried that his little child was upset beyond words._

"_She doesn't understand, Erik… she's only four… she knows they're not there and she's upset but she doesn't know **why**. She thinks they're coming back to get her…"_

"_I want to speak to her…" he stated firmly._

"_Erik, I don't think–"_

"_I want to speak to her, madam – put her on…"_

_She conceded and, after a few moments of impatience on Erik's part, the sound of his precious little seraph's voice appeared at the other end of the line. "Daddy?" she asked. _

"_Oh, sweetheart, no…" Erik said softly, his heart breaking for her. "It's your Angel… you have not forgotten me, have you?"_

"_No, Angel, I promise," she said confidently. "But where's Mummy and Daddy?"_

"_I love you…"_

"_Daddy says that before bed… are you saying night-night, Angel?" she asked innocently, unaware of the grief she should be feeling were she older. He supposed she was lucky this way – not to have to feel that pain…_

"_Yes, sweetheart – your Angel just wants to say goodnight to you… but I do love you."_

"_Night-night, Angel… love you."_

"_Oh," he choked out as his voice became thick with emotion. It was the first time anybody had ever said that to him and he was incapable of telling her just how much it meant to him – even though she had not even said the full sentence and had probably not meant him to take it quite like he had. "Goodnight, my beautiful child… will you hand the phone back to Mrs. Giry now for me, darling?"_

"_Jonathan's just taken her and Meg to bed…" Ada said, speaking into the phone again._

"_What's going to happen to her now? Where will she go?"_

"_She'll stay with us now, Erik… Michael and Sarah would have wanted that – trust me, she'll never be on the wrong side of a care home as long as I live." She was not to know, however, that one day she might just live to regret her words…_

* * *

"Hello, Angel," Christine said, coming into the kitchen and kissing the top of his head as she stood behind the chair he was in. 

"Are you and Meg finished?" he asked, placing his hand atop hers on his shoulder.

Ada couldn't help picturing Erik as some sort of regal King, sitting in his throne as his Queen stood behind him, both figuratively and literally, sharing in each other's comforting presence. She shook her head to get rid of the strange image and reacquainted herself with the conversation.

"Yes, Angel," Christine said. "And I'm hungry… is it alright if we go home now?"

"Yes, love," he said, getting up to take her out of the kitchen and get her coat. He took her by the hand and waited as she said her goodbyes to Meg and her mother, then escorted her to the car, driving off together back towards their own home.

"What do you want for tea, Angel?" It was perhaps a very normal question, but, Erik rather liked the regularity of family life that was offered him by this delicate beauty. He had never been privileged with such luxury when he was a child himself and, now that the two of them shared it so willingly, he would never be able to go back to how it was before she came into his life.

"Don't you bother about that, Christine – I'll make the tea tonight… you must be tired and I want you to be able to get up for school in the morning. What would it look like if I, a teacher, let my favourite student skive off for a day?" he said, smiling. "Actually, sweetheart… at the weekend, I thought I'd treat you… how would you like to go to your favourite restaurant on Friday?" he asked.

"Oh, Erik, really?" she said happily. She would have hugged him, but assumed that he might find that distracting while he was driving.

"So, I have pleased you then?"

"Oh, yes, Erik… thank you. I think I'd like to wear that dress you bought me…"

Without Christine noticing, Erik shivered, elated at the thought of her wearing the beautiful dress he had bought for her. It was a lovely long evening dress that was modest enough for him to not mind her wearing it around other men but still provocative enough that he would, no doubt, find himself having to consciously remember not to stare at her. He had seen the dress in a shop window not too long ago and had gone right to the sales assistant to buy it without even checking the price so sure had he been that it would be exquisite on her. He loved buying her things – delighted in it, in fact… He couldn't really explain it; he just loved to treat her and lavish her with things he knew she would like.

He wanted to make Christine his whole world and she _was_ the whole world to him… When she was a child, he had been her whole world too… he was aware that now she had others in hers as she had grown to be more independent but he was confident that he would remain a large part of her life – and that was enough for him. He would not be greedy – he had had thirteen wonderful years with her and could anticipate many more, if he knew her at all, when he had expected only to have a few weeks with her when she was first put into his care…

_

* * *

It had happened so suddenly that she had never expected it… and right in the wake of tragedy itself when she was still so busy trying to compensate for the loss of Christine's parents that she had paid little attention to anyone else. How she regretted that now… _

_Jonathan Giry had had a heart attack not three days after he had found out about his two best friends dying in that car crash. He, himself, had passed away in the early hours of the next morning just as Ada had begun to fall asleep by his hospital bedside. _

_One day on, needless to say, she was shattered and devastated – completely overwhelmed with the death of the man she loved more than she knew how to say… So distraught, in fact, that she decided she could not cope being in the same house in which she had shared all of her married life with him. She would take Meg, her one comfort in all of this, and head off to her parents' home for at least a couple of weeks until she could bear to go back. She knew she would have arrangements to make in the very near future, but, she felt she had to get away from the house no matter what._

_That left her with the dilemma of what to do with the other little girl she was supposed to be taking care of…_

"_I wouldn't ask… but it'll just be for a little while and it's either you or I'll have to put her into care."_

"_Don't be ridiculous – of **course**_ _I'll take her… When can I come and get her?"_

"_Anytime that's suitable for you… but the sooner the better as I want to head up to my parents' home soon."_

"_I'll be there in half an hour. What about her things?" Erik said from the other end of the line._

"_I've got her bag packed but most of her things are still at her parents' house – I'll give you the keys and you can take what you need… The reading of the will isn't until Tuesday but I think you should take her – as far as I know, the house is paid off and now belongs to Christine… and the rest you will have to find out from the executor," Ada said before hanging up. She would have to explain this to…_

"_Are Mummy and Daddy coming to get me?" Christine asked excitedly from just behind her, giving her a bit of a start._

**_How lucky she is_, **_Ada thought. _**_To not know the true grief of not having them near… she and Meg are undoubtedly lucky not to have lost them a mere few years later as it would absolutely destroy their little worlds. Or, perhaps, they were not lucky at all as they would likely never even remember them…_**

"_No, Christine… it's your Angel who's coming to get you," she said, cringing at telling a lie that would blatantly be only of harm to the child one day but without any other option. "You remember your Angel?"_

"_He sings to me like Daddy… I love my Angel."_

"_And he loves you, Christine…"_

"_Is Meg coming too?" she asked sweetly._

"_No, Meg has to stay here… but you'll see her at school." Another lie; Meg wouldn't be at school for a few weeks until Ada was back. _

"_Does he know where Mummy and Daddy are?"_

"_Christine," she started softly, kneeling down in front of her so that they were at eye-level. "You remember I told you that Mummy and Daddy had gone to Heaven to live with the angels…?"_

"_With Meg's Daddy…?"_

"_Yes… with Meg's Daddy," she confirmed, swallowing hard. _

"_Why isn't my angel in Heaven?" Christine asked, confused._

_Ada sighed; already Erik's lies had started to harm the child and he wasn't even looking after her yet… "Because your Daddy sent him to look after you…"_

_Ada spent the next several minutes trying to get Christine to understand and was so grateful when the doorbell rang signalling that Erik had arrived and would take responsibility of her now. He took Christine's bags to his car and popped them in the boot before Ada showed him how to put her car seat in._

_He turned to the little girl standing by the car looking on at them innocently. She was wearing a blue dress that was so beautiful on her that he thought she had never looked lovelier… perhaps it was just because he was being allowed to take her home and he had never been happier._

"_Come here, little love," he said, lifting her up easily as she came towards him. Ada helped him set her on the car seat base in the back of his car and he strapped her in. "You're coming to live with me for a little while, sweetheart. Perhaps, we can stop off for a treat on the way home… would you like that?"_

"_Erik," Ada started. "Just remember… she's not a doll."_

"_What exactly are you saying, madam? Come, let us not stand within the boundaries of polite conversation… say what you **really**__think." _

"_Erik, I know that you care for her… but you have never looked after a child before – never looked after anyone but yourself, in fact – it is difficult… you can't neglect her as you neglect yourself."_

"_Your concern is unneeded, madam. I am more than capable of caring for her," he said, getting into the driver's seat of his car and lowering the window. "Besides, if you really thought I were a risk to her, you would not let me take her – bereaved or not…"_

"_I want Daddy…" Christine said softly from the back as Erik drove away from Ada's house._

_He looked at the sweet creature behind him in the rear-view mirror and wished he could bring him back for her just to see her smile. "I know, sweetheart, I know… but Daddy's not here right now – he's sent his very best angel to look after you though." He could not help feeling guilty as he watched her struggle to understand why her parents weren't there with her – why everything had changed so suddenly._

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	2. Chapter 2: Their Life Together

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Stephanie (not that I'd want to) and Piers, who is based on a real person that I know – a family friend who has more eccentricities than he has letters in his big, highfaluting, double-barrelled surname.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed. Here's another five thousand and something words for you… And, you'll find out more about the Stephanie/Christine situation in a later chapter. Oh, and, yes, I know the age gap is huge but it has to be and that's the way I like it. Kay got it bloody right. End of…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 2: Their Life Together…**

Every weekday morning in the house that they shared, Christine would waken up first, going downstairs to make their breakfast as Erik went through his usual ordeal of trying to wake up. He had never been a good sleeper – always remaining in bed for hours each night before he could fall asleep and then, because of that, he would not be at his best in the morning. Christine had gotten used to him being grumpy in the morning and actually found it rather endearing – but she pitied the people who did not know him as well as she did and who tried to have a conversation with him while he was still half asleep. He could be irritable at any time of the day, but he was a complete grouch when he felt he had not had enough sleep and only Christine knew just how to handle him.

After making breakfast, she would take it up on a tray to his bedroom, sitting down on the bed on top of the covers at his feet as he still lay in bed, and they would eat together. It was like a makeshift table really – because Erik did not usually feel up to getting up before he had eaten, it meant that they could still share breakfast together without trying to achieve the impossible.

Afterwards, she would clear up and they would both go for a shower in their own respective en suites before getting ready to go to school. Then Erik would drive them and the rest of the day would be spent there going through the usual until afterwards when Christine would do her homework and Erik would work on his marking and lesson plans. They would have tea together and sometimes read together later or share in their music together. They were a good team as they were – Erik had his responsibilities and she had hers, both of them complimenting each other perfectly – and, from the perspective of others should they look in, they were just an average couple, living together in flawless coordination. It might have seemed monotonous to some, but, as a child, Christine had needed routine to help her get passed losing her parents and they had just developed so since then. Granted, at the time, Erik had been the one to look after all of her needs as a child and now their roles were almost reversed but, perhaps, more half and half than anything else. They had stuck together out of mutual pain and become rather happy in the process…

This particular morning, things were going by as they usually did – Erik was his normal temperamental self, Christine was in the kitchen cooking their breakfast and he had nearly bitten her head off when she had gone in to waken him. Basically what passed for ordinary in this house…

Until the doorbell rang…

Christine, perhaps obviously as Erik was not up to it, answered the door and was greeted with a woman in her mid to late thirties who had a gentle expression and soft blond hair which fell around her shoulders in a loose style. Christine observed her for a moment – the woman was on her own so she could not be a Jehovah's Witness, it was too early and she was not dressed in the uniform to be the postie, and she was definitely not anybody that Christine knew…

"Christine," the woman said almost as a gasp, tentatively raising a hand to touch Christine's hair.

"Do I know you?" she asked uncomfortably.

"Yes… I mean, no… that is – not now…" The woman paused to offer her hand to Christine to shake and tried to explain herself better. "I'm Steph and the last time I saw you, you were just a little girl – you won't remember me and you obviously don't… I suppose Erik still lives here then…?"

"I'll go and get him…" Christine said, scarpering up the stairs.

"No, really… that's not necessary," the woman said too late for Christine to hear her.

"Erik?" Christine said as she came into his room.

"What?" he snapped. "And where's breakfast? I've been waiting _ages_…"

_He could be such a child in the morning_, she mused but not sadly. He was a handful but she loved him… and she couldn't really work out why the woman at the door was making her feel slightly uneasy. _Is she an old girlfriend?_ Christine wondered. Now she felt a little jealous and she didn't like that unfamiliar emotion creeping over her when she didn't know why. Perhaps because she and Erik were so close and she wasn't prepared to let anyone – including an old girlfriend of his – threaten their relationship. At the same time, it felt odd to her that Erik could have had another woman at some point who would have been as close to him as she was. Maybe she was just being silly… hopefully, anyway.

She sat down on the bed at his side and stroked his stomach like a cat, watching as he stretched his spine out and had his arms raised above his head. He had long since learnt not to be self-conscious lying in such a defenceless position in front of Christine as he trusted her and knew she wasn't going to do anything to hurt him even when he was vulnerable. It was strange to him to be so close to someone that he could even sleep while she was near him and he still felt entirely comfortable though he would be susceptible to being hurt. He had never felt that way before with anyone… certainly not with the woman who was supposed to be his mother – he would never have felt safe sleeping and being unprotected around _her_. That was where his sleeping problems had started, he was sure. It was funny, but Erik actually could say that he felt _more_ comfortable sleeping when Christine was around him than when he was on his own and he tended to get more sleep then too.

"There's a woman at the door, says she knows you, Angel…"

Erik groaned. "This is why I tell you to keep the gates locked and to use the videophone…"

Regardless, Erik got up and put on his favourite robe, heading downstairs behind Christine as she led him to the figure waiting in the entrance hall.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Steph said when he caught sight of her. Needless to say, he was rather surprised.

"Stephanie, what are you doing here?"

"I'll leave you to it," Christine said, not wishing to watch their reunion. "I'll leave your breakfast in the kitchen, Angel."

"Christine, wait," he called, but she wouldn't stop. He had no idea what had gotten into her – why she had just hurried off like that – and it was upsetting him.

"So she still calls you 'Angel' then?"

"You are not the first person to have commented on that this week," he replied indifferently. It troubled him when Christine was upset and he wanted to know what Stephanie had said to distress her so. How people treated his angel was very important to him…

* * *

"_Still, nothing is final until I see how you are with Christine…" he said, standing from his armchair in the living room where he had been interviewing registered childminders._

_The young woman there at the moment appeared to be the most suitable with confirmed references and a good CV. She also had a gentle demeanour and caring disposition that made him think she would be the best person to be Christine's childminder._

"_Not to get ahead of myself, but what are your specifications when it comes to me looking after Christine? I find that they vary wildly from parent to parent…" she said as she got up too and shook his hand._

"_I just need you to bathe and change her on a daily basis…"_

"_That's all?" she asked, surprised. "You don't actually want me to mind her?"_

"_No, I am perfectly capable of taking care of her myself I just need you to help her bathe and dress…"_

"_Alright…" she said, still quite confused._

"_You'll still be paid full price but she's mine to mind," he clarified. "However, I also think it might help to have a female influence in her life, so, perhaps if you are willing, you may have a room here with us in case she needs something during a time that I am not available. And, you are aware that it is an indefinite position?"_

"_Oh?"_

"_Yes… her parents died recently and her legal guardian has also been untimely bereaved, so, I will be looking after her until the woman who is supposed to be caring for her is ready to do so again. That might be a week from now or a month from now or any conceivable time period, you understand. That, of course, is presuming that Christine likes you well enough…"_

"_Of course…"_

"_Angel?" the little girl in question said from the doorway._

_He strode forward purposefully, bending down to pick up the child he cared for more than anything else in the world. "Yes, little love?" he said in a voice completely different from the cold one he had been using for the child minder._

"_Who's that?"_

"_Hello, Christine," the child minder said sweetly moving towards the little girl in Erik's arms. "I'm Steph…" She took Christine out of a very reluctant Erik's arms and sat down with her in one of the armchairs. "I hear you like music… tell me, what's your favourite?" _

"_My Angel sings to me…"_

"_Oh, I bet he's good," she said in the voice she used solely for the children she looked after. "And maybe one day he'll sing for me too…" She looked up at Erik and smiled at him, hoping he might just agree to that sometime – she thought he must be an excellent singer with the amount of scores and books on music she had seen throughout the house._

_Christine shook her head, "My Angel sings only for me… he said so." _

"_You must be very special…"_

"_She is, thank you, Stephanie," Erik added. "Now, I have to get her settled – I realise you will not be ready to stay here yet, so, if you'll just give her a bath and put her in her pyjamas then, since it's Friday, I'll pay you for the day and I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."_

"_So, I've got the job?" she asked._

_He nodded reservedly. "We'll see what happens – I want to see how Christine copes with the change before I make any permanent decisions." He took her out of Stephanie's arms and headed towards the stairs with her, glad that she was his alone to hold again. _

* * *

"She has grown into a beautiful young woman, Erik… you must be very proud," Steph said. 

"I am… But she possesses more than just her beauty – she is intelligent, kind, sweet and the most precious creature on the planet. However, I am not exactly sure what that has to do with you… why did you come here?"

"It's hard to explain…"

"Try…" he said, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall. It was definitely a feat to look imposing in silk pyjamas and a dressing gown – but Erik was managing it…

"I just wanted to see her…"

"Why, after all these years, would you want to see her now?"

"I suppose I was still expecting that little girl I used to look after… I know I was only her childminder, but, she was like a daughter to me…"

"She is not your daughter though, is she?" he said, feeling very possessive when it came to Christine.

"Well, she's certainly not _yours_…"

"_What_ did you say?" he hissed. "What right have you to come here to mine and Christine's home while we are having our breakfast and insult me like this? I don't care to continue this travesty of a conversation any further; good day to you, madam; now, if you'd please leave…" He gestured towards the door…

"No, look… I'm sorry… The truth is, I came to see her because… because… she is the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have…"

"What?"

"I… I know this doesn't concern you so I'll keep it short, but, I've been unable to have any children of my own and I was always very fond of Christine – I grew to love her in the few short years you employed me… I thought perhaps she might remember me… I know I was kidding myself."

Christine chose that moment to enter in her full school uniform and carrying her bag. She walked between both of them and kissed Erik goodbye on the cheek. "I love you, Angel… Look, I'll take the bus and let the two of you catch up," she said in a strained voice. "Don't worry, I'll tell them you'll be in as soon as you can… and don't forget your breakfast or it'll get cold."

"No…" She was out the door before he could stop her so he ran outside after her in his pyjamas and dressing gown, rushing along the drive with his bare feet. Granted, they had a large driveway and there were no neighbours so it didn't really matter what he did out there – but it meant something to Christine that he had followed her.

"I said 'no', love…" he scolded gently, refusing to release his hold on her arm. "You should listen to me… and you know I do not like you travelling to school on that contraption with all those ruffians your age."

"Who is she?" Christine asked, nodding over his shoulder to the woman standing there. "Did you used to go out with her or something?"

She was slightly squinting in the sunlight but he also had the feeling that she was trying hard not to cry and it endeared him towards her even more as he imagined the reason behind it. "Oh, Lord, no. She was your childminder, Christine…"

"Why don't I remember her then?"

"I had to let her go when you were still quite young…"

"What for?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter right now… we'll be late for school. Come back inside and I'll get ready… then we can go together."

He started to lead her in by the hand and was delighted that she didn't let go when he gave her the chance.

Stephanie rushed passed them, embarrassed that she'd caused such a touching scene but, still, she wanted to see the girl who had come closest to the child she would never have. "I shouldn't have come today – it was a mistake not to have warned you… I know that, but perhaps… another time…?" she trailed off, continuing passed them to her own car outside the gates.

"I thought she was your girlfriend," Christine admitted.

It gave him a dizzy thrill to realise that she could very well have been jealous of Stephanie when she believed there had been more between them than the parent-figure and childminder to her. "Don't be ridiculous, love – with _this_ face…?" he said sceptically, gesturing vaguely towards the mask.

"And what's _wrong_ with your face, Erik…?"

"You are just used to it… We have discussed this before – you are one in a million and there are no others like you who would be so lenient towards appearance…"

"My angel is beautiful… and I don't care what anybody, including you, has to say on the subject." Erik stopped exactly where he was to look at her peculiarly. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"That's not the first time you've said that…"

_

* * *

Erik started awake at the feeling of his bed moving and the mattress depressing next to him. He opened his eyes immediately, prepared to defend himself from any imminent attack but was happily surprised to find the little angel Christine kneeling beside him, playing with one of her toys. _

"_Hello, darling," he said fondly, his voice still laced with sleep. He turned onto his side so that he was facing her and tucked his arm under the duvet more comfortably. It was the perfect way to be wakened up, he was sure… having the child that he loved with all his heart sitting with him, unknowingly offering him the comfort of her presence. _

" 

"_Are you always so sleepy, Angel?"_

"_Yes, I suppose so," he laughed. "I don't sleep well, child."_

"_When **I** can't sleep, Daddy sings to me…"_

_Erik smiled and stroked the back of her hand lazily with one of his fingertips. "Perhaps **you** should sing to **me** then…"_

_He was reeling with shock when she opened her little mouth to sing and brought forth the most exquisite sound he had ever heard. It was pure and crisp and child-like, every note rang clearly and her little song made him feel as though he had finally found the reason he had survived so long in such awful circumstances… it was to see her – **hear** her – and just be with her. A great deal of understanding to come from one song alone, yes… but Erik had always been wildly affected by music, and, though he might be hesitant to admit it, he would have loved her anyway… the song was just a way of showing him now that he did. It was, perhaps, the first time he realised that he would come to love her as more than a child when she was old enough…_

_With one realisation, however, came another, less welcomed, one…_

_His eyes had adjusted enough now from sleep to see exactly what she was playing with and, suddenly terrified, he brought his hand up to his face, reeling in a different way when it connected with rough, bumpy skin and not the smooth surface of his mask._

"_What have you **done**?" he hissed, immediately getting out of the bed and away from her, still covering the right side of his face. He was handling the situation in the only way he knew how to – in the only way he had experience with – to lash out at his attacker until they were no longer a threat to him and he could escape._

_The little girl on the bed in front of him was terrified as he leaned down in front of her, still towering over her, and started jeering at her through clenched teeth. What he lacked in pure volume, however, he more than made up for in his ability to frighten her. She burst into tears and curled up into a ball, holding the mask unconsciously like a shield above her head on the bed. _

_Erik realised himself quite quickly after that – he couldn't believe he had been shouting at a child the way he had been… **especially **towards Christine. It was unacceptable, and, if anyone else had distressed her like this, he would have twisted their neck until he heard a satisfying snap. _

"_Oh, precious," he said in a completely different, soft voice. "Forgive me…" He got down on his knees by the bed and lifted her into his arms as she started hiccoughing, rubbing her back soothingly to try to get her to calm. _

"_You shouted at me," she sobbed pathetically._

"_I know, love… I know. Please forgive me… I did not mean it – my temper is not what it should be. I just… I didn't want you to see me…" he said, equally as pathetic. _

_She brightened up immediately, in the way only a child can – one second, completely distressed and the next, happily playing again. It **fascinated **him… "My Angel is beautiful," she said, giving him her best smile. "But he's lazy…" Then she kissed him on the tip of his bare nose and scurried off to find something of more interest. He laughed and brightened up, himself, going downstairs to make them both some breakfast._

_Since then, he had been more lenient with letting her see his true face and had sometimes let her remove it while they were in the privacy of their own home. He hoped she might grow used to it and not find it repulsive when she was old enough to realise there was something really wrong with his face… and grow used to it and accept it, she did._

* * *

"I remember playing with your mask, Erik, and seeing nothing but my Angel when I looked at you… and, if I've said exactly the same thing, on two completely separate occasions, then it only proves how sincere I am." 

"I do not doubt your sincerity, my love – it is your accuracy with which I take exception… You are biased in the relationship we share and you cannot see why anyone would hold my appearance against me – but only because you know me. If I walked up to somebody in the street, completely unmasked, they would think me a mugger or some other sort of hardened criminal and call the police… not before screaming themselves silly, of course. Child, if _you_ were this hideous, I should still love you… but the rest of the public would not be so forgiving. Thankfully, though, you are exquisite…"

"But, Erik…"

"No, I don't wish to discuss this any further. Now, come on, we are going to be late," he warned.

* * *

And late they were… but not excessively so. Perhaps luckily for Christine, Erik was her form teacher, so they could not take the register without him and she did not have to sign herself in for being late. It was one of the many perks of having a member of the teaching staff as your foster-father. Others included being taken to and from school in a comfortable and quiet car instead of the school bus; being on a mutual first-name basis with the rest of the teachers when they were not in class; having a key to his room so that she could escape at lunch or break if it was getting too much; and, of course, help with work that she didn't understand or had missed. 

Erik also found that there were perks to having one of his students as his foster-daughter – he had her with him, or at least in the same building as him, most of the day; the other students treated him more like a human being than they had ever before because they had learnt from Christine what he was really like; he had the woman he considered to be his dearest and closest friend near him if he needed to talk; and, he had welcome company when it came to the long drive to and from the school.

After registration, Christine went off to her other classes and she didn't see Erik again until just before lunch, when she learnt from some of the people in the class before her that he was being especially grumpy today. She imagined it was because he was not particularly happy about having missed his breakfast.

"You're like a baby who's missed his feed," she laughed when she saw his grouchy expression.

"I'm not in the mood to be mocked, Christine… not even by you."

"Oh, stop being so temperamental, Angel," she said, perching herself on his desk in front of him and reaching her hand out to cup his cheek affectionately. "This is exactly what you're like every morning – you are only still being grumpy like this because _that woman _broke your routine and prolonged the amount of time you have spent without food today. Lord, you really are like a child – you _need_ your routine, and, if it's broken like it was today, you sulk and throw your version of a tantrum."

"I do _not_ sulk…"

"Face it, sweetheart – you're an overgrown, spoilt diva…"

"I've been called a lot of things in my life, Christine – but I have _never_ been called a diva…"

"You're a man born with a headache – you're conceited, smug, arrogant, difficult to even hold a conversation with let alone _live_ with and you're totally high-maintenance."

"How do you _ever_ put up with me?" he said dryly.

"'Cause I love you, babe…" she said amusedly, "and you're lucky I like taking care of everything at home and of you – nobody else would be your skivvy. Here," she said, placing a lunchbox in front of him on the desk. "I made your favourite lunch because I knew you would be sulking."

"Thank you, precious," he said quietly, giving in, which was as close as he would ever get to admitting that what she had said was true.

She smiled in triumph as he bowed his head and gave him a quick kiss at his temple. "I'd better get to the canteen, Angel – Meg will be waiting for me. And I'm sure Piers will be waiting for _you_ – why don't you go and eat in the staff room with him…?"

_

* * *

Piers was more than surprised to see a little curly-haired girl held at the hip of the man in front of him. Erik had just opened the door to see his colleague and friend, he supposed, holding a rather large ream of paper. _

"_What are you doing here?" Erik asked, a bit disappointed that he had been interrupted while he was spending time with his Christine. _

" 

_Fighting his bafflement, Piers dabbed the little girl on the nose. "And who's this little darling?" he said in the sort of voice one uses for a young child._

_She giggled and decided that she liked this man who was a friend of her Angel's. "I'm Christine…"_

"_Well, Christine, I'm Piers… why don't you show me what you like to do while Erik finishes his work?" He took hold of her and lifted her out of Erik's arms, much to his annoyance, and carried her passed him into the house without waiting to be invited. He knew what Erik was like – if he were to wait for such an invitation, he'd never get inside. _

"_What do you think you're doing?"_

"_Oh, don't look so put out… I only came over to get your help with these," he said, indicating the papers still in his hand. _

"_What are they?"_

"_They're my senior class's mid-term exams and I need to get them marked by tomorrow… can you help me?"_

"_Of course…" Erik could be irritable… but he was not stupid – he was aware of everything Piers had done for him and he would return the favour. He could be accommodating when he wanted to be… "Put Christine down and join me in the study; I'll put the kettle on…"_

"_Oh, just ignore Scrooge over there," Piers whispered in Christine's ear, making her laugh. "I think I'd like it if you came too – you're the sweetest thing I've ever seen."_

_When they were all in the study with their respective beverages, Erik sitting at his desk, Piers opposite him and Christine sitting on the window seat, Piers distributed the exam papers between the two men and they each gave a similar and exasperated sigh at the volume of work in front of them. Thankfully for them, they could talk and mark at the same time, allowing them not to go completely out of their minds._

"_So, what are you doing with a child, Erik?" Piers asked. "She isn't yours, is she? You haven't been having it away with her mother, have you?"_

"_No, I have not – what an absurd notion," he said, annoyed. "I am merely looking after her…"_

"_Where are her parents?"_

_Erik lowered his voice so that Christine would not hear and get upset again. "They're dead, Piers, and it would help Christine if you did not mention it around her."_

"_And you're looking after her…?"_

"_I said that, didn't I? It's only temporary – Ada Giry was supposed to be looking after her but you know she was recently bereaved too…"_

"_Erik… are you sure that's a wildly good idea?"_

"_What, exactly, are you referring to?"_

"_Looking after a child… on your own and everything…"_

"_I get the distinct impression that you do not think me capable… would I be right in saying so, Piers?"_

"_It's not that," he said, shaking his head. "It's just that you've… what I mean is that… well, you're not very paternal, are you?"_

_Erik was just about to retort when he felt a small tug at his sleeve and looked down to see Christine pulling on it. He found her needs to be much more his concern than insulting Piers back, so he ignored him and turned around fully to the little girl beside him. "What is it, sweetheart?"_

"_Sorry, Angel… but I'm hungry."_

_Piers watched as Erik immediately took her off to the kitchen in his arms, and he stood off to one side, observing as Erik made food for Christine with extra special care and made perfectly sure that she had everything she needed. He had never seen Erik so concerned about anything else in his life._

"_I stand corrected…"_

* * *

"Oh, come on, can't you learn to share? You'd think thirteen years living with a young woman would make you a little less territorial…" Piers said, shooting Erik a glare. "Surely she has borrowed your razor without asking and commandeered your favourite pair of pyjamas because they're 'comfy'… You already live out of each other's pockets." 

Erik returned the look and folded his arms across his chest, unmovable on the subject. "Christine made it for _me_… you will just have to get your own. She'd be offended if I just gave mine away."

"Cobblers – and you know it… she'd want you to share your Black Forest Gateau like her good little blue-eyed boy."

"What are you suggesting?" Erik asked, suspicious.

"She has you wrapped around her little finger…"

Erik hadn't been expecting that and was suitably shocked-looking for Piers' tastes as he absently placed the piece of wrapped cake back down on his lap.

Piers smiled. "You don't feel like eating now, do you?" he laughed.

"You mean this was all a ploy to get me to relinquish my cake?"

"Too bloody right – Christine's Black Forest Gateau is the best I've ever tried… Besides, you _know_ she doesn't have you wrapped around her little finger – she wouldn't allow it, she does everything for you…" He sighed when Erik's expression remained unchanging. "Oh, stop it, will you? Don't tell me you're in a huff now… why don't you lighten up, for Christ's sake?"

Erik didn't say a word but got up and left the room, heading towards the canteen. It was time to make use of one of his perks…

"Christine, can I speak to you in my room, please?" he asked, leaning down over shoulder as she sat with Meg and a few others. "Only if you're finished, of course…"

She followed him back to his classroom, rather confused, and watched as he locked the door behind them. "What's wrong, Erik? Has something upset you?"

"Just let me hold you…" he murmured as he moved forward and brought her into his arms. He often took comfort from her in this way – she had started it many years ago as a child when he would waken up with his own demons and she would hug them away 'like Daddy did'. It had taken him a great deal of time to get used to it, but now they were very comfortable with each other and he found that it was one of the only ways to calm himself down.

She stroked his back soothingly. "Tell me what's wrong…"

Erik was already a very insecure person to begin with – Piers' gentle teasing had not helped and he knew he was being silly, but, he had never been able to get unwanted thoughts out of his head. At least, not until he had met Christine…

"I don't know what I would do without you," he said quietly to her.

"Well, you won't have to find out, will you? We're the perfect pair…"

"You have been the best companion I could have ever have hoped for. I feel awful that my happiness has come about from your tragedy."

"I don't much remember my mother, Erik," Christine said. "But you have been the best father a child could ever have."

For some reason, that just made Erik feel worse… Perhaps because he thought he had stolen her father's rightful place… or, perhaps because he wanted to be something wildly different from her father…

And why did Christine also feel like she were not telling the whole truth…?

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	3. Chapter 3: An Unorthodox Existence

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers, Stephanie and Xavier.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed…another chapter for you with Erik being his lovely, possessive self. Things get a bit… naughty, I suppose one could say, towards the end of this chapter – but in a very tongue-in-cheek kind of way. Nothing really – just a bit of innuendo…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 3: A Decidedly Unorthodox Existence…**

After school that day, Erik was driving home less peacefully than usual. He looked in the rear-view mirror at Christine as she talked happily with Meg. Christine had invited Meg over for the evening with a few others, who they were making their own way there later. He couldn't really hear what the two of them were saying – not that they were whispering – but he had a lot of things on his mind… some were coherent, others were not.

Looking between them, he couldn't help feeling jealous of Meg for being Christine's best friend. Christine had always been everything to him, and, he didn't see why she had to care for other people as well… especially someone like Meghan Giry…

Meg was just that little bit older than Christine but she was far more outgoing than her and everybody treated her like their best friend. She was a very confident person who spent more time making friends and going out to parties all night than she did studying or being sensible in the slightest. And she was the more popular because of it…

Christine – the quieter, more reserved of the two, who was always doing well in school and had an aptitude for music far beyond her years – tended to be left to the wayside… not so much ignored, as people _did_ like her, but they assumed that she wasn't as fun as her friend. Erik couldn't see why they were so close when they obviously led very different lives, but, they appeared to compliment each other's personalities.

It was obvious that Christine was absolutely beautiful… not that Meg wasn't – but Christine's beauty was of a different, more ethereal sort – and she was never overlooked for being the most exquisite creature in the school… But hers was the sort of beauty that made men worship her at a distance – she was beautiful in a non-approachable, perhaps slightly intimidating way. Meg, however, had young men tagging along at her heels and it made Christine feel unwanted as she did not seem to realise the true reason that none of her peers had asked her out. She was a relatively insecure individual because of it…

Erik, though, had eyes only for Christine… and he wished fervently for the chance one day to do something about his feelings for her without ruining the relationship they already shared.

Tonight, though, Erik only had hiding away in his rooms to look forward to while Christine had her friends over. Actually, he knew that Christine wouldn't let them go upstairs or anywhere he might be, like the kitchen or the library. She was a very considerate young woman and he knew very well that he was lucky to have her.

_

* * *

Ada Giry sighed and laid her head in her hands as she sat at the desk in her bedroom at her parents' house. She still didn't know what to do about Christine… It had been more than a few months now and Erik was still looking after her back at his home in Hertfordshire. And Ada felt awful that she had just abandoned Christine with him and not been in touch since. _

_The school was happy to allow her compassionate leave until she was ready to come back and they had a substitute covering for her – but, she knew that Meg would have to go back soon and it was unfair for her to keep her away from children her own age. She also knew she would have to take Christine off of Erik's hands… Thinking about it now, she imagined he was fed up with the little girl he had cared so much for just a few months ago. He was probably almost ignoring her now… she just hoped that he wasn't neglecting her. Not that she seriously thought he might._

_

* * *

Later that week, in the Phelps-Jones-Daaé house, Erik twirled Christine around as she jumped into his arms from where she had been standing on top of his bed. She had mentioned that he was very tall and her neck hurt looking up at him so he had lifted her onto the bed to make her happy. _

_She, of course, didn't realise it, but, she had already made a big change to his life – she made him very happy and had become like a little attachment to his life that he could not live without._

_Which was, perhaps, why the visitor who had just arrived was not so welcome…_

"_What are you doing here?" Erik asked Ada as he opened the front door to let her in._

"_I've come to take Christine back… it's about time I returned to work and got Meg back to her routine. So, I can take Christine off of your hands now…"_

_Erik was devastated. He had known he would have to give her up eventually but he supposed it had only been at the back of his mind and he hadn't really entertained such thoughts since he'd had her to take things off of his mind. An in-built urge to protect what he believed was his kicked in and he held Christine to him all the tighter. "No, you can't have her," he said firmly._

"_I don't want to go with her, Angel," Christine said to him._

"_I know, sweetheart, and you won't be. I won't let anyone take you away from me." He placed Christine back on her feet and told her to go and play in her room while he talked to Ada, then he turned to the woman in question and folded his arms across his chest, standing in front of the staircase so she couldn't pass him. "I think you'd better leave."_

"_Erik, what on Earth are you doing? Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds? Christine is **my** responsibility and I have the rights to care for her. You know that I was named in the will as her guardian…" _

"_It has been more than half a year, madam. No court in the land would let you take her back – it is bad for a child to be moved around a lot at her age and she has already been upset that way twice. She is settled here…"_

"_You can't be serious…"_

"_On the contrary, madam – I am **very** serious. If you want to take her from me, you are going to have to fight me for her – I am willing to go to court over the matter, but, let me point out my advantages… I have been caring for her for longer than you have, I can devote all of my attention to her while you already have another child, I am not bereaved so I can concentrate on her bereavement alone, I have a great deal of money with which I can support her, and, perhaps most damning of all, she doesn't **want** to leave me… Now, I do believe **you** were leaving, madam," he said smugly as he moved to open the door for her._

"_Don't be so arrogant, Erik… one day it'll come back to haunt you." And she left without having to be told again, still unsure of what to do, but, still in her state of bereavement, selfishly glad that she could concentrate on Meghan. _

_Meanwhile, Erik leaned back against the door in exhausted relief and let out the breath he had been holding._

"_What's wrong, Angel?" Christine asked from the top of the stairs. _

"_Oh, nothing," he said, recovering himself. "Nothing at all now that I have you…" He was still not sure that the matter had been resolved, and, of course, he was right to be wary, but, he would not let Christine see that._

* * *

Erik parked the car in their drive and, while Meg got out herself, Christine was helped out by Erik, who had a great deal of old school manners even though he had little other social skills to speak of. He opened the front door for them and relished in the kiss on the cheek that Christine gave him before she disappeared into the living room with Meg. He then went upstairs to the music room and spent the next several hours engrossed in his piano playing as her other friends arrived. It wasn't until he heard a noise that he didn't particularly like that he stopped… 

He sat for a moment, silent, still sitting on the piano bench as she tried to decipher exactly what it was that had disturbed him. It had been rather high pitched and short but he still didn't know what it was that had made it. So, when he heard it again, he opened the music room door and decided to go down the stairs to see if Christine's friends were making it.

It was then that he realised exactly what – or rather, _who_ – the sound was coming from…

"Hey, come on, Raoul… put me down," Christine yelped as he playfully lifted her up by the waist and pressed her against the wall. They – Meg, Raoul, Christine and a couple of others – had been playing in turns against each other on the games console, when Raoul had commented that he could do what he had made his character do and then an argument started between the boys about who was the strongest. And, they had promptly started lifting the girls to see who could do it the highest…

Erik moved into the open doorway, and, without a word, he took Christine out of Raoul's arms and lowered her to the floor at his side as he turned around to give the offending boy a very cold glare.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mr. de Chagny?" Erik asked as he made a point of standing between him and Christine.

Raoul looked over Erik's shoulder at Christine for help and had his attention swiftly drawn back to Erik as he took a step to his left, blocking Christine completely from view.

"Don't look at her – I know she's beautiful but she can't answer that for you. Can't tell me, hmm? Well, then I suggest you get out… Don't make me tell you twice, _boy_."

"Erik, really, you're overreacting…" someone said.

He rounded on the person who had interrupted him and was surprised to see Piers getting up from the floor by the rest of them.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"I came over to apologise for my behaviour earlier and your beautiful daughter here," he said, smiling at Christine, "invited me to join them as you were busy on your piano."

"Yes, well, you can stay out of this, Piers – she is not your concern."

"Erik, I think–"

"I don't give a damn _what_ you think," Erik snapped at Piers, before turning towards Raoul again. "Now, I believe I told you to get out, _boy_."

"Sir," Raoul laughed nervously. "Christine?" he asked, less hopefully.

Throughout, Christine didn't say a word – she knew better than to undermine Erik in front of everyone and knew it would hurt Raoul less to be thrown out than it would hurt Erik to be humiliated by her. It may have seemed terribly disloyal to her friends, but, Erik was her first priority and she wouldn't go against him.

"I think it'd be best if you left, Raoul… I'll see you in school," she said from behind Erik, laying a hand on Erik's back to reassure him that she would back him up against anyone.

"Yeah, Christine, sorry, we're going to get off now too," Meg said as she and everyone else filed out of the room with Raoul and quickly out of the front door, leaving just Erik, Christine and Piers in an awkward sort of silence. Piers didn't know what to say… he imagined Christine would be livid with Erik now and he wanted to stay to keep the peace but he couldn't think of the right thing to do.

Christine, however, was not angry at all, but rather, worried that Erik had gotten himself wound up over something so trivial. "Angel, you alright…?" she asked softly, rubbing his upper arm as she turned him around to look at her.

He pressed his forehead to hers in supplication and joined their hands together. "I'm sorry," he mumbled – something he had only ever been able to say to her, and her alone. He knew how lucky he was… any other person would have been angry at him for having ruined their evening and wouldn't understand that he had certain anger and possessiveness issues that originated from a childhood he would not speak of. But Christine was a diamond and he loved her. "You aren't angry with me, are you?"

Piers was amazed… he'd never heard Erik apologise to anyone in all the time he had known him and he had certainly never been so openly appealing for someone's forgiveness. He decided he'd best leave them alone but was rather cheesed off when neither of them even seemed to notice him go.

"I'm not angry with you," she confirmed as she smiled up at him, stroking his back soothingly as though he were a child. "But I don't think you'll be very popular with the rest of your class for a few days…"

"As if they don't already have a bad opinion of me… I expect they think you're living with an ogre who keeps you locked up in the loft and only lets you out to do the chores."

"You…? An ogre…? Don't be daft… you're just a big, cuddly pussycat who needs a bit more attention than most."

"A pussycat…?" he laughed. "Now who's being daft…? I'm no more of a pussycat than you are a man-eating great white shark."

"You've always been very much a pussycat to me, Erik – one stroke behind your ears and you're lost to whatever is my whim at the time," she said, not really serious. "But, people aren't always what they seem…" She slipped away from him and headed out of the door as he followed.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing…"

"No, you meant something or else you wouldn't have said it."

"Nothing… just that, you might _seem_ imposing but you're really a sweetheart…" she said nonchalantly.

"That's not what you meant," he argued.

"Yes, it was."

"No, it is _not_ what you meant."

"Let it go, Erik. It _is_ what I meant."

He wasn't convinced…

* * *

"Seeing as _you_ scared off all of my friends, it is up to _you_ to entertain me," Christine said after he refused to answer a question she had asked him. They were lying on cushions on their stomachs in front of the fire and Christine had been questioning him about his life before her. 

"How long was your longest relationship then?" she asked.

He looked at the dear woman to his right and sighed. She would never understand… "Thirteen years…" he answered truthfully, if ambiguously.

"Then why aren't you still with her?"

He looked at her pointedly. "I _am_ still with her…"

"That doesn't count, Erik," she said, nudging his shoulder with hers. "I'm not your longest _romantic_ relationship."

"You are my longest relationship of any sort…"

"Angel…" she said firmly.

"What?"

She sighed, exasperated, and shook her head, sending an array of long chocolate brown curls falling about her shoulders. "That can't be true – you've known Mrs. Giry and Piers far longer than you've known me…"

"I neither know them as well nor as gladly… And I see them far less often than I see you – if we added up all the days I have spent with you, they would far outweigh the amount I have spent with them added together."

"Well, what about that woman, Steph, who was here this morning?" Christine asked, trying not to sound bothered.

Erik could tell she was, though, but he didn't know why. Still, it made him feel happy for a moment as he imagined that she could be jealous for some reason. "What about her?" he asked, intent on drawing it out as long as possible.

"Did you go out with her? You said you had to let her go… I wondered if that was because something had happened between you and it hadn't worked out."

"I have never heard anything _more_ ridiculous," he stated.

* * *

"_What are you **doing**?" Erik asked Stephanie as he walked into the dining room to see her laying two plates out on the candlelit table._

"_I decided to try out a new recipe and I thought we could eat it together – get your input and all that…"_

"_Well, that's very kind," he said, slightly confused by her behaviour. "But, I have to make sure Christine eats before I will even think of doing so myself."_

"_I've already given her her food, Erik."_

"_You've done **what**?" he snapped._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_You **know** what I pay you to do – and you know what I pay you **not** to do. She is **mine** to care for and you knew that, so, perhaps you can explain to me why you have done what I told you not to do…"_

"_Look, calm down, I just thought we could have a nice meal together without any other distractions…"_

"_How **dare** you call my angel a **distraction**," he hissed. "**You** are the one who is keeping me from **her**."_

"_Erik, I don't see why you're getting upset…"_

"_Christine would," he stated firmly._

"_Look, I didn't mean to upset you – all I wanted to do was cook you dinner for once."_

_Erik wouldn't apologise for being so easily offended but he did decide to try to be less defensive. "Well, I suppose it is only one night – **one **night, you understand – and I could do with something to eat, but, why have you set candles out?"_

"_I thought they would add a certain ambience to the evening and it's not as though Christine is around to knock them down…"_

"_She could never be so clumsy – she has the grace of a ballerina," he said defensively._

"_I didn't mean it like that… I just meant that she is not going to get hurt by them. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you something to drink… Does wine suit?"_

"_Yes, fine." He sat down in his usual seat and mourned the empty place beside him where his little angel normally sat. "Does that mean that she had to eat on her own?" he asked when Stephanie returned. _

"_She was happy to watch a film while she ate…"_

"_Then I think I'd better go and spend some time with her," he said, getting up quickly. "She's been on her own too long."_

"_Erik, you've spent all day with her at school…"_

"_Is it a bad thing that I can't get enough of her?"_

"_Can't we ever have a romantic night in without you going on about **her**?" she huffed._

"_Romantic night in…? What are you talking about? We aren't a couple… we aren't even friends. I am your employer and I pay you to look after the most important person in my life – the **only** important person in my life. Has someone put you up to this?"_

"_Nobody's put me up to anything; I don't see why you have to be so paranoid. I just wanted to have some time alone with you."_

"_Alone with me…? Why would you want to be alone with me?" he asked suspiciously._

"_I like you, Erik, when you're not being like this and I know you like me too – we have fun together, don't we? We look after Christine together… Give it a chance – we could really make a go of this."_

"_You are demented – I have no interest in you… I've told you time and again that all that matters to me is my Christine."_

"_She won't be with you forever, you know… you said it yourself – it is a purely temporary position."_

"_Then you understand that I wish to be able to cherish every moment with her. This arrangement is no longer working out – I shall have your P45 ready by morning and I expect you to have your bags packed."_

_Since then, he had never allowed a childminder he had hired to care for Christine call him by his first name or to live with them. He also had the unfortunate task of explaining to Christine, though, why another person she had become even slightly attached to had left her life and a new person had come into it doing their job. _

* * *

"Shall we say, she got a little too friendly and I did not reciprocate… actually, now that I think about it, she had been acting strangely for a while before I had to let her go." 

Christine was secretly pleased that he had not had an interest in the pretty woman, though, if she had been asked, she could not say why. "Did you ever think about having children, then?"

"I'm not good with children…"

"Said the teacher…" she laughed.

"Well, it's true – I never know what to do around them… especially the ones who don't know what they're doing, themselves."

"You were wonderful with me…"

"You were not an average child…" he pointed out, dabbing her on the nose with his finger like he used to do when she was a child.

"I see – I was abnormal…" she laughed. "You and Frankenstein's monster felt a real bond with me…"

"I did feel a bond with you," he said seriously. "And it has only strengthened over time…"

"Tell me how we met…"

"You know how we met… I taught – I _teach _– at the school you were sent to…"

"Yes, but how did we actually meet there? You only teach the secondary school and I can't remember you ever going into the nursery or the primary building if I was not there… so how could we have come to meet?" she asked.

"I knew Mrs. Giry and you are aware she teaches the nursery class; well, you were – _are_ – best friends with her daughter…"

"I might have believed you if it weren't for the fact that I know you've never taken much interest in Meg, so, that does not explain how you came to meet me…"

"Alright, I'll admit," he said after a while. "Our first meeting was entirely orchestrated by me…"

"Why?"

"I saw this perfect little angel – a girl _so_ beautiful that my first sight of her brought tears to my eyes – and I knew that I had to have some form of contact with her…"

Christine smiled delightedly. "That's so sweet, Angel… I didn't know that. How did I come to live with you then?"

"How much do you remember of your early childhood?"

"Not much, I'm afraid, Angel… though, sometimes I remember things when you mention something I have forgotten."

"Do you remember your parents?"

"Of course I remember them… I still miss them sometimes when I think about the things I have missed out on because I lost them so young. But, I'll always love them so even though I don't have as many memories as I would have liked. Most of all, I am forever grateful for the greatest gift they could have ever given me…"

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Well, _you_, of course…" she laughed, nudging him again.

Erik looked at her oddly… "Don't you remember the court case?"

"Court case…?"

_

* * *

It had been __almost a year now and Erik hadn't heard a word from Ada Giry's solicitors, so, he decided it was time to consult his own about having Christine with him legally. Unfortunately, just as he was talking in his own home with his solicitor, who was detailing exactly what had to be done to transfer her guardianship to him, he got a couriered official letter from the solicitors of a Mr. Charles Atkinson. _

"_What the hell is this?" _

" 

"_Let me see…" Xavier said, taking the papers out of Erik's hand and studying them for a moment. "Do you know a Charles Atkinson?"_

"_No… what does he want from me?"_

"_Well, as Fate – or, perhaps, **coincidence** – would have it, he has applied for full parental rights of a Miss Christine Daaé."_

"_**What**? Who is **he** to get custody of her?" Erik asked sharply._

"_I don't know, Erik, but I'll find out." _

* * *

"_He's contested the will," Xavier stated over the phone. "He is a blood relative of Christine's and he was out of the country when her parents died so he has only just heard about it now. He opposes the unofficial transfer of guardianship from Ada Giry to you… Also, the will states that, in the event of the death of both of her parents, an Ada **and** a Jonathan Giry be named as her guardians – well, Mr. Giry is dead and that very much changes things. And, you're not going to like this…"_

"_I have liked little of what has **spewed** out of your mouth so far today," Erik said indifferently. "What is it?"_

"_He and his wife were named as her guardians should the aforementioned people be deceased before the will was read."_

"_Oh, for the love of God," Erik shouted. "I have been looking after her for the last year almost… he can't expect to get her off of me now. What are we going to do?"_

"_Well, if you are adamant that you want to keep her…"_

"_I am."_

"_Then we are going to court…"_

"_Indeed."_

"_She'll remain in your custody during the trial because of the amount of time she has already been in your care and that is very much in our favour, Erik. Courts rarely like to move children about a lot… it would be different if Mrs. Giry wanted her back, though."_

"_Why would it be different?"_

"_The courts favour women and she is already a mother, not to mention, her legal guardian… if she wanted Christine back, I believe you would have quite a fight on your hands, but, this Charles Atkinson doesn't really have a leg to stand on – he only contested the will because her primary carer, Mrs. Giry, was not looking after her. Fortunately, though, if you get custody of her over Mr. Atkinson, then you will have custody of her forever… Mrs. Giry will not be able to take her back and you will be solely responsible for her until she's eighteen. Actually, it is in your best interest that he has applied for this now because then you can have the matter settled finally."_

* * *

"I'm sorry, sweetheart; I thought you knew… Your parents didn't give you to me – they gave you to Mrs. Giry to look after but her husband died just a few days after your parents and she couldn't look after you _and_ Meg…" he said softly, placing his hand in her hair. "She asked me to take care of you for a little while and I gladly accepted, of course. However, when some time had passed, I looked into becoming your legal guardian and there was a court case between me and one of your mildly-distant relatives." 

"Who…?"

"A Charles Atkinson – some uncle of your mother's or something. Well, anyway, I fought to keep you… for two whole years… and, of course, I won – otherwise we wouldn't be sitting here now, would we?" _Yes, we bloody well would_, his unconscious commented in the back of his mind. He would not even allow himself to think of the hell he would have suffered if she had been taken out of his life way back then. He would have gone clinically mad, he was quite sure…

"You fought to keep me…?"

"Yes…" he said truthfully.

"I loved you before, Angel… but I love you even more now."

"Oh, I love you so, little darling. In all my life, the decision to take care of you was the one I had to think about the least and the one I revel in the most. I never had so sane a moment as the one, in which, I took responsibility of you… And, if they hadn't ruled in my favour, I would have found some other way of spending the rest of my life with you."

She was silent a moment before returning to her original question. "So you hadn't expected to have children one day, then?"

"No – I had not even considered a wife, let alone any children running about the place and it is rather hard to have a child when one does not even have a partner."

"Have you _ever_ had a partner?" Christine asked. She had added up everything in her head and she couldn't remember a time when he'd even entertained a woman – she imagined he had never had a relationship of any substance… if he had ever had one at all, that is.

"What sort of question is that? You know I value my privacy more than most."

"Yes, but you've never had any privacy from me…"

"Don't I know it…" he grumbled. "Like the time when you were seven and you walked in on me while I was undressed…"

"You're lucky I don't remember a thing about that – I expect I blocked it from my mind… but, if you _will_ walk around naked then what do you expect?"

"I wasn't walking around naked… I had just stepped out of the shower and the phone rang downstairs… is it _my_ fault if I dropped the towel out of shock when you propelled a muffin at my head?"

"Lord, that _was_ funny," she laughed.

"I thought you said you didn't remember anything about it."

She lowered her eyes. "No, course… I meant that it _sounded_ like it might be funny."

"I don't believe you…"

"You don't have to."

"How much do you remember?" he asked after a moment's pause.

"You know how, if you last see somewhere when you're young and then you go back years later, it doesn't seem half so big…"

"You cheeky little madam," he said, playfully pushing her over onto her back on the cushions.

"Not that I intend to see that particular part of you again…" she teased. "It was quite enough the first time."

"You are not too old to be punished, Christine. I am not opposed to teaching you a lesson in etiquette…"

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" she laughed. "Oh, and, Angel…?"

"Yes?" he asked guardedly.

"While you were still standing nude in front of me in shock, I happened to notice that you have a very nice-looking… large… long… _stroke-able_…"

"_Yes_…?"

Christine wrinkled her nose in amusement and lowered her eyes noticeably to a particular region of his anatomy before bringing them back up to his face while she smiled. Erik, for his part, was curious as to what she might say. Actually, it would have been more accurate to say that he was positively hooked on whatever her next words would be, terrified in the knowledge that what she would say could crush him. "Well, what I am trying to say, Angel," she continued in a mock-embarrassed tone, "is that it looked very… _pleasing_… like I might enjoy… _using _it…" Erik was now beyond speech and he stared at her, his mouth slightly open as he tried desperately to make sense of what she was saying. "Yes," Christine went on. "It was a bloody great-looking towel…"

Erik let out a long, strangled sort of breath as his hopes were deflated. He should have known she'd be teasing him… she was always very tongue-in-cheek.

Christine was highly amused that she'd gotten such a reaction out of him and she basked in her power over him. "Maybe I can use it sometime… you don't often find towels like that one," she continued.

Actually, that thought was not totally displeasing for him and he decided to salvage what he could from his dashed hopes than just allow them to be crushed. "I should ground you for that."

"But you won't… you've never grounded me for anything in my life."

"Doesn't mean I won't start now…"

"Oh, yes? And how are you going to keep me in my room, hmm? Tie me to the bed…?" she laughed.

"Sounds like an interesting idea," he said out loud without meaning to. And, before he knew it, he had given in to an urge he shouldn't have even entertained and had pinned her to the cushions.

"Erik, what are you–"

Without giving himself a chance to think about it and back out, he pressed their lips together in an intense, if brief, kiss. Actually, it was very much over before it had even really begun as he threw himself away from her and onto his feet. He stood for a terrified moment as he looked down at her lying on the floor in front of him. He was scared that he had just undone the whole of their relationship with that one stupid unconscious decision to steal a kiss from her – the only kiss he was ever likely to receive.

"Forgive me… it was a mistake… I… I didn't mean to." And, with all the stealth of a leopard, he fled from the room.

Christine, meanwhile, was stunned. She lay on the floor for a while after he had gone, just thinking about what he had done. She hadn't expected it… he hadn't given her any signs that he was going to kiss her – or why he had, in fact – and she had been momentarily frozen in place as she experienced her first kiss.

He had been timid, she recalled – holding his lips still against hers and only for a brief moment. There was not much she could say about it – he was obviously inexperienced, but, she found that to be more endearing than off-putting. And, it was not as if she had had anything to compare him to…

She decided she had liked it… it had been a good kiss, if a bit clumsy, but, she had not expected to share it with Erik – he was supposed to be her Angel, her guardian, her teacher… It could not be repeated, she decided.

But, it had not been a disagreeable experience…

_Perhaps I ought to talk to him_, she thought. _There is no point in leaving it until he is so awkward around me that he cannot even look at me. And, knowing Erik, that will not be long…_

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

What can I say…? I'm having an odd week…


	4. Chapter 4: A Thoroughly Strange Game

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers, Stephanie and Xavier.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed…another chapter for you which is almost six and a half thousand words long. Anyway, Erik gets a bit possessive in this chapter and he and Christine partake in a strange dominance game towards the end which might be considered… naughty, I suppose. Things should even out by next chapter…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 4: A Thoroughly Strange Game of Dominance…**

"Angel?" Christine called out as she entered his room without knocking.

He was rocking back and forth on his chair in the corner and was clearly distressed. "I got carried away," he said quickly, almost hysterical, not looking at her as she knelt in front of him. "I didn't mean to do it… I made a mistake. I'm sorry…"

"Shh, Angel, I forgive you… but I'm worried about you – you've worked yourself into a right state over nothing."

"Nothing…?"

"Well, Angel, I know you did not mean to do it… perhaps it is best if we do not mention it again… if we just go on as normal… nothing happened."

"Nothing happened," he repeated emotionlessly.

"Yes, Angel."

"You are not angry with me?" he asked, worried.

"Hardly, Angel – there are worse things you could have done to me than kiss me…"

"You are alone in that thinking I do believe, child."

"Oh, Angel, you know I am nothing like your mother…" she said as she started to rub his shoulder.

Not terribly long afterwards, he came back to himself and started acting more like Erik again. "Yes, well, quite. It was an accident, you understand… I had a glass of wine at teatime and I was a bit tipsy. Nothing happened."

Christine nodded. She was aware that one glass of wine was not enough to make _him_ tipsy but she was not willing to point that out now.

* * *

The next day, in school, Christine and Meg were eating their breaks in one of the locker rooms as it was quite quiet and Meg was currently reprimanding Christine for Erik's behaviour. 

"Christine, he totally overreacted…"

"I know it looks that way, Meg, but you don't know what it's like for him… he's a pussycat really. But he's had a hard time of it…"

"That's not an excuse, Chris. We all have hard times but he practically _threatened_ Raoul… and you let him."

"You don't know him like I do – if you did and you loved him just like I do then you would not wish to hurt him as I know undermining him would have done."

"Whatever you say… still, I think he could have handled it better, being a teacher and all."

"I know, Meg, and so does he. You did not see him apologise afterwards…"

"I suppose so…"

"Actually, there's something else, Meg," Christine said after a moment of silence.

"What is it?"

"He… he kissed me… Don't look at me like that, Meg, it was an accident."

"How could it have been an accident? How can you kiss someone _accidentally_? Did you fall off a ladder and directly onto his mouth or what? He's your foster-father…"

"I know that, Meg. It wasn't supposed to happen and it didn't last long… he knew it was a mistake and he ran off right afterwards… it's not his fault."

"I think I should tell my mum," Meg said. "She won't take it further, Chris, unless you wanted her to 'cause she knows it wouldn't do any good – you and he would just deny it – but I think she should talk to him or at least to you…"

"No, Meg, I don't want her involved. Erik wouldn't like it… and I don't want the hassle – it was a silly mistake – if anybody else found out, have you any idea what it would do to his reputation, if not his career?"

"I know," Meg sighed reluctantly. "I still don't think he should have done it, though…"

"Your disapproval is duly noted."

"Good…"

* * *

"Erik, have you seen my bra?" Christine called as she skipped down the stairs half dressed. 

_Well, that sentence could definitely be misconstrued_, he thought, going out of the living room to see her.

She was rummaging through the clean washing pile in the back room, her robe open at the front, all the way down. _Christ_, he thought. _Is she trying to give me a heart attack?_ He averted his eyes – not that he could really see anything as everything he believed _should_ be covered, _was_ covered. "Which one?" he asked.

"You know, the dark red plunge one that goes with my dress," she said, still searching.

"Ah, yes, it's through here," he said as he went into the utility room and picked out the freshly dried piece of underwear. Personally, he preferred the white lace set she owned… he _knew_ she would look angelic in it – not that his thoughts about it were particularly so – but exactly _when_ he had gotten to know so much about this woman's underwear, he would never know. However, she was right – the dark red one would go best with her dress…

It was Friday evening and Erik had promised to take her out to her favourite restaurant in the town. He just hoped that today would go even marginally better than yesterday.

"Actually, love, there was something I wanted to ask you… did you tell Meg what happened between us last night?"

"I thought you said that _nothing_ happened…"

"Yes, to us – nothing happened… to social services – I abused my student and foster-daughter…"

"You didn't _abuse_ me."

"_I_ know that but Meghan doesn't seem to."

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"She scowled at me all through class today and some more besides."

"I'm sorry, Angel," Christine said. "I tell Meg everything…"

"I wish you'd tell _me_ everything."

"I do. More than Meg, sometimes…"

"How can you tell me more than _everything_?" he asked, not convinced.

"Because… we know each other on a different basis than we know everyone else. I don't need to tell you everything – you already know it anyway. We could go through the rest of our lives together silently and we'd still manage perfectly."

"It'd be hell not to hear your voice," Erik said after a brief pause. "But, you are right – we _could_ manage…"

* * *

Not for the first time that night, Erik watched the beautiful creature he lived with descend the stairs of their home as she prepared to go out to dinner with him. She was stunning in the flowing burgundy evening dress he had bought her very recently and which he had not had the chance to see her in before. 

_It had certainly been worth waiting for_, he mused, watching her graceful entrance into the front hall. As she slowly came into his line of vision, his eyes moved over her, starting from her feet at the delicate open high heels she was wearing, showing off her lovely feet… he had always found her little feet adorable – they were so much smaller than his and his hands were larger even than them. She was so petite that sometimes he thought he could just absorb her into himself and they would be together forever as one… he was more and more often now becoming sentimental and lovesick over her and he didn't know how to stop feeling so gentle when he had always been an imposing figure. But, he couldn't help himself when he was around Christine and he knew that one could be forgiven for thinking that he was kind and sweet all the time, instead of just with her.

His eyes moved up from her ankles where the hem of the dress fell, passed her taut calves, and passed her accentuated waist to her décolleté above the neckline of the dress. Her arms were bare and he felt a decidedly strong urge to stroke his hand across her shoulders and neck to feel what it was like to have direct contact with her warm smooth skin.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs now, Christine gave Erik a little twirl to show him the back of the dress too and waited patiently for him to comment.

"What do you think…?" she asked nervously when he didn't say anything. "You know, you really are reducing my confidence…"

"I wish you were doing the same for my blood pressure…" he said seriously, raking his eyes over her.

"Do I do it justice?"

Erik shook his head to clear it. "Child, you should be asking if _it_ does _you_ justice… And, though nothing in the world could ever do you _true_ justice, it certainly compliments your beauty exquisitely."

She blushed appealingly and turned her head away as he helped her with her coat and escorted her to the car, setting off for the restaurant she favoured. It was a small but very classy establishment, which was private enough that Erik felt comfortable taking her there while still elegant enough that they could enjoy their meals.

When they got there, they were well taken care of by the host who seated them at their usual table, taking Christine's coat and scarf. Erik declined removing his own coat and sat down to Christine's left once he had her seated, aware that it was rude to keep one's hat on in a restaurant but unwilling to leave himself open to curious stares at the mask… and he knew that Christine liked it when he wore his hat, which was definitely a plus whatever way he looked at it.

After they'd ordered their before dinner drinks and their starters, Erik excused himself to go to the gents, leaving Christine alone to look at anything and everything to try to occupy herself while she waited. It was not the most entertaining thing in the world to be sitting on your own in a restaurant, between meals, and she was, at first, quite pleased when she saw the waiter heading towards her table. He presented her with a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream and a glass.

"We didn't order this…" she said, confused.

"Compliments of a Mr. Ledbetter, madam," the waiter said, handing her a folded note along with it.

She read it aloud softly. "I would have sent champagne but the host recommended this was your favourite… and two glasses would have been presumptuous."

Erik picked just that moment to return to the table and Christine was at a loss for what to do. "I don't believe we ordered that," Erik told the waiter.

"Compliments of a Mr. Ledbetter, sir… for the madam," he said again, indicating Christine.

Erik was immediately riled. Who was this man who had so audaciously sent _his _Christine a bottle of Baileys? "Send it back," Erik told the waiter.

"Sir…?"

"Send it back… and tell Mr. Ledbetter that my _wife_ is not interested."

"Of course, sir…"

"Presumptuous, indeed," Erik muttered, reading the card. "It was _presumptuous _to _presume_ that you were unattached." Christine did not care to point out to him that she was, in fact, unattached so she remained quiet as Erik watched the waiter carry the bottle and glass over to a young man sitting at a table near the front. And, to Erik's immense consternation, the blond, well-dressed man got up, took the bottle and glass off of the waiter and approached their table himself.

"Good day to you, sir, madam," Mr. Ledbetter said, bowing subtly. "I apologise; I had not realised the young lady was attached."

"Well, she bloody well is," Erik snapped.

"Erik," Christine said warningly.

"No, no, it is quite understandable, madam – I should think that _I_ would react similarly in such a situation. Perhaps if you and your husband would let me make it up to you by treating you to dinner…" he said, spreading his hands in a vague gesture.

"This is not a one-off," Erik growled. "I take my wife out to eat often and I can well afford to do so now. I neither need nor want your misplaced offerings – you have not offended me in the slightest, so I have no need of you making it up to me, you have merely reminded me how lucky I am to be this beautiful creature's spouse," he said, indicating Christine. "In fact, you have been of so little consequence to me that I am struggling to remember who you are or the reason why you are still interrupting our _private_ meal together."

"Erik…" Christine shot him a hard glare for being so rude and kicked him under the table.

"Another time, perhaps," Mr. Ledbetter sighed. "I truly did not mean to offend…"

"You haven't, really," Christine said, shooting Erik a pointed glare and also pausing to stop herself from laughing at what she was about to say. "My _husband_ has had a bad day and merely wishes to spend some time alone with his _wife_. I thank you for your kind offer and maybe someday we will partake of it… I hope you have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you, madam, you are very gracious. I bid you good evening." He walked away from their table quite amiably and left the bottle for Christine with his compliments. Erik was about ready to throw it after him but he decided that Christine would much prefer to drink it from a glass.

"The impertinence of youth today…" Erik muttered when he had gone. "He deserves a ruddy good bollocking."

"Come now, Angel, you cannot tar us all with the same brush… you do not think me impertinent, do you? Or yourself when you were my age?"

"I suppose…" he grumbled.

"And if you call buying someone a bottle of their favourite liqueur, coming over to apologise to us when he found himself embarrassed, offering to treat us – complete strangers whom he had only mildly offended – impertinent, then I would dearly love to see someone you thought was an angel – surely they would be divine…"

"You are," he said without pause.

She took a moment to bow her head and blush before speaking again. "Are you saying you would not do the same as him at his age should you see a young woman you were attracted to?"

"I would not offer her a drink to put her in my favour… I would be much more tactful." _Yes, I would take **you **for a meal and then to see an opera in a private box. Then I would treat you to a private tour backstage with or without the company's consent. Afterwards, I would walk you home along the scenic route if the weather permitted and then I would stop just at your doorstep, drawing your hands into mine and laying them over my heart before I would lean forward slowly until we were so close that I would have to tilt my head so our noses wouldn't collide. Then I would proceed to bring our faces closer until your bottom lip would start to tremble and I would have to fight the urge to draw it into my mouth. Then I would back away without touching you and you would sigh in disappointment, your beautiful eyes fluttering open when no contact came. Then I would bid you goodnight and return to my own home, leaving you unfulfilled and wishing that I had stayed – surely a better sentiment to return to at a later date than disappointment at my ineptitude. The only problem with that scenario, of course, is that we live in the same house and I would probably not be able to contain myself… _And then he would not say another word about it as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, you are so cute when you're in a huff," she laughed, playing with a lock of his hair in a way that made him feel most endeared towards her. In fact, he was unconsciously leaning into her touch, in a way that suggested he was hoping they might bring their lips together again. However, he caught himself just in time to save face.

Well, _almost_… "Christine?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"When I kissed you…"

_That _caught her attention and she dropped her hand from behind his ear without thinking. "Yes, Erik?"

"When I kissed you… on the lips…"

"_Yes_, Erik?" she prodded.

"When I kissed you on the lips… was I… was I passable?" he asked tentatively with his head bowed so that he could not see her.

"Yes, Erik," she answered honestly.

He brought his head up sharply, surprised and happy all at once. "So, I was sufficient, then?"

"Yes, Erik."

"Oh… alright." He started fiddling with the now cold bread roll on the plate in front of him, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

"Yes," she said simply. "Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

"Yes, Christine," he answered honestly, unsure of how to do the experience true justice by describing it with mundane words.

"So, it was worthwhile, then?"

"Yes, Christine."

"Do you know how ridiculous we sound?" she laughed.

"Yes, Christine."

"Shall we stop?"

"Yes, Christine."

"Erik," she scolded, playfully hitting him on the chest.

"Yes, Christine?" he smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Stop it."

"Yes, Christine."

"I mean it."

"Yes, Christine… Christine?" he asked more seriously.

"_Yes_?"

"I would miss you dearly if you weren't here – you do know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Erik," she said, a bit surprised by the turn in conversation. "And I would miss _you_…"

"Christine?"

"Yes, Erik?" she said, becoming slightly agitated.

"I love you, Christine."

She lifted her head to look at him oddly… but the waiter had arrived with their starters.

* * *

"The relationship between myself and Mrs. Giry has been rather strained of late," Erik said as he and Christine waited for their main course. They had been talking about a lot of things concerned with Christine's childhood and she had commented that he and Mrs. Giry did not seem to talk very often even though they must have when she was smaller. After all, it did not make any sort of sense that Mrs. Giry would just give a four-year-old child to some man she only _vaguely_ knew and did not trust… 

"Why did you two fall out?"

"What makes you think that we were ever friends?"

"Wrong wording, right question… why did you fall out?" she asked again.

Erik sighed. He was not sure he wanted to be getting into this now. "She did not approve of you staying with me."

"I thought she was the one who gave me to you in the first place…"

"She did… but she regretted it. She thought that I would grow bored of you and be happy to give you back when the day came that she would return for you. Of course, she was very much mistaken and I resented the implication that I was only looking after you out of novelty."

"So, then what happened?"

"You remember I told you about the custody hearing?"

"Of course…"

"Well, Charles Atkinson was not the only person to come forward in opposition of me keeping you… Mrs. Giry finally made up her mind that she had room for you but I was very much of the mindset that it was too little, too late. To cut a _long_, hurtful story short, the odds were in my favour – you had, by the end of the hearing, been living with me for nearly three years; you and I were very much closer than you were with either Mrs. Giry or a great uncle you had only briefly met; you did not _want_ to leave me; and I was providing a good home for you… Mrs. Giry was not best pleased. Neither of us has since gone out of our way to initiate any sort of contact since."

"But, in these cases, doesn't access get granted to the party that does not win?"

"Only in cases where both parents are fighting for custody of a child or where a child has been living with two different guardians for a similar period of time… but I had had you by far the longest and neither of them could contest that."

"Good," Christine sighed. "I am so glad. I don't know what I'd do if things had been different."

That was exactly how Erik felt too and he was undeniably thrilled that she felt the same way. He remembered precisely the day she had been made officially his…

* * *

"_Just sign on the dotted line, Erik, and she's all yours," Xavier said, handing Erik a form._

"_You make her sound like a car," Erik groaned. He flipped through the papers briefly and found most everything to be in order. "Now, this isn't an adoption form, is it? I made myself very clear on that matter, I remember."_

"_No, it's not an adoption form. I made sure to get you the foster forms… though, I don't know why you would want only to foster her when you have spent so much time fighting for custody of her. But, it is your choice…"_

"_Quite. Now, explain to me again the difference…"_

"_When she's eighteen she will no longer be related to you, but, until then, you have full and sole parental rights, next-of-kin status in all legal and medical matters, in the eyes of the law you are her father, and she officially has your last name."_

"_She has my last name?" Erik asked, surprised._

"_Yes, as your legal daughter she has your last name by default."_

"_Christine Phelps-Jones…" Erik mused out loud. "And when she is eighteen…?"_

"_It will remain Phelps-Jones as you are her last living parent, if you will. But, you will no longer then be seen as relatives in the eyes of the law… you understand that, don't you? And, that is, of course, providing she doesn't change it herself when she comes of age…"_

"_Can **I** change it?"_

"_Well, yes… but why would you want to?" Xavier asked, confused._

"_I do not want to give such a sweet child the name of my God-forsaken parents… she deserves better… she deserves Daaé – her father's name."_

"_Well, I can draw up those papers for you as soon as I get back to the office."_

"_I want them by this afternoon," Erik stated, in a decidedly fouler mood than he had been before the conversation had come up._

"_Alright… I'll have them sent by courier."_

* * *

"Sir? What are _you_ doing here?" a shrill, overly loud and entirely unwelcome voice said, catching Erik's attention. Christine had just excused herself to go to the ladies and he was not in the best mood already to be sitting without her. How easily he missed her… 

"Oh, Christ, what next?" Erik muttered. Christine would understand – she didn't like her any more than he did… but, for some reason, Carlotta seemed to stay around him longer the ruder he was to her. He missed Christine even more now – Carlotta would never have come over if she were here as they seemed to work as some sort of repellent for each other. He had been very pleased to learn that keeping Christine around him kept Carlotta away – it was just another of many reasons to justify his need for Christine to be there every second of every day. He also found it had the rather marvellous effect of keeping that _boy_ at a distance from his angel.

"So… what are you doing here then?" Carlotta asked, sitting down in Christine's chair.

Inwardly, Erik groaned. He had wanted a private, quiet evening with his angel – something that could perhaps even be described as romantic by a stretch of the imagination. He took a brief moment to look about himself dramatically and then turned to the intruder at their table. "Why, I do believe I was eating," he said wearily, "in an _eating establishment_, would you believe?"

"There's the waiter," Carlotta commented dully.

"A waiter – what, here at the restaurant, well, whatever will we do about it?"

"Oh, sir, you can be so funny."

Erik looked around for Christine in need of her help as the waiter brought their main course over to the table and placed it in front of him. They had been going to share a platter made especially for two and Erik had been very much looking forward to the idea of them enjoying it together – _alone_.

The waiter looked at Carlotta oddly. He had never seen the masked man here with anyone other than the young, curly-haired beauty – and he was sure she had been here for the starters… "Will you be requiring an extra setting, sir, madam?"

"No," Erik said quickly, and perhaps, a bit harshly. How he had hoped she would have gotten the hint and left. But he was not to be so fortunate…

"Have you heard what Raoul asked your daughter, sir?"

He cringed at the mention of that _boy's_ name and at Carlotta referring to Christine as his daughter but remained silent, hoping that she would lose interest in stirring things.

"He asked her to go out with him," Carlotta supplied, hoping the information would put Christine in disfavour with Erik. "He even bought her a present – gorgeous pair of Gucci heels…"

That seemed to strike a chord with Erik and he lifted his head in surprise, thinking back to the pair of heels Christine was wearing – the pair that he had not bought her and had never even seen before. He had imagined that they were new – that she had bought them herself – and he had been meaning to comment on them, to tell her that he loved them on her, but suddenly he was not feeling quite so enamoured of them. "I suppose, then, by her acceptance of his gift, that she has also accepted his… _proposal_, if you will?"

"Yes, she did," Carlotta lied, smiling to herself as she did so. "Anyway, I've got to go… see you on Monday."

Carlotta hurried off somewhere – he didn't really care to look – and she was soon replaced by the much more sought-after presence of Christine, who had just returned to their table. "Oh, it's here," she said, seeing that their main course had arrived. "You are very sweet not to have started without me."

Erik remained fuming in silence as she brought her chair closer to his and moved the platter so that it was between them – they hadn't been planning on using the platter to serve onto two smaller plates as they were quite content to just share. Christine was concerned, however, that Erik hadn't said a word to her since she'd sat down. "Are you alright?"

No. "Yes."

"You're sure?"

_No. _"_Yes._"

"Alright… but you don't _seem_ fine." As soon as she said that, she noticed a dramatic change in him – he was suddenly more animated, starkly different from the motionless, silent figure of a few moments before – and she was immediately scared that she'd done something terribly wrong.

"What the hell does it matter to you _how_ I'm feeling?" he hissed.

"_Erik_… what's gotten into you?" she asked, worried.

"No, what the hell has gotten _in_ to _you_?" he said viciously.

The insinuation was not lost on her and she was upset that he could say such a thing to her when she knew he loved her so dearly. It was not unusual for him to go into moods and to be touchy, often snapping at her – which no longer offended her because she knew that he never meant it and that he would apologise when he was ready – but he had never said anything so undoubtedly cruel to her and she had no idea what could have made him do so. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What's the matter, Christine? Didn't think I'd find out?" He leaned towards her, placing his palm against the curve of her cheek – looking, to anyone else like a husband about to kiss his wife – and brought their faces closer together, keeping a tight, almost sore, grip in her hair. His face was so close that she could feel his breath tickling her nose and he started whispering coldly to her. "_Now, you listen to me, Christine… nothing, dare I say it, **nothing** gets passed me without notice and I do not like liars… I do not like them one bit and I know exactly how to handle them. Do you know what I like to do to liars, Christine?" _he asked, smiling wickedly. She shook her head._ "They don't stop, you see… liars – they keep on lying, they tell one lie and then they have to back it up with another and another and another and… the only way to stop them lying – to get to the **whole** truth – is to take away all of the things they love, everything that matters and break them so that all that they have left is to tell the truth. I met a compulsive liar once, Christine. He lied to me and I **ruined** him… he'll never lie again, I can assure you. One could say that I **cured** him… but I prefer to think of it as his just desserts._"

"You are insane…"

"Perhaps… but that's not really what we are talking about, is it? You know how I feel about that _boy_ and how I feel about liars and yet you _did_ both."

"Raoul? What's he got to do with–"

"_Never_ mention that name in my presence," he snarled at her, tightening his hand in her hair.

"Erik, you're scaring me… I've never seen you like this before."

"Well, you're the only one…"

"Please, let go of me… you're hurting me," she sobbed quietly, bringing her hand up to her head to try to relieve the pressure present there from his grip.

"Waiter," Erik called suddenly, never taking his eyes off of hers. "Bill, please." He gave a final sharp tightening of his grip before releasing her hair and placing his credit card on the saucer with their bill as the waiter went to process it.

Christine had remained silent since Erik had taken his hand away. She truthfully didn't know what to say to him – she wasn't even sure of what he was accusing her of. She was shocked again when he pulled her left foot off of the floor and into his lap.

"I do not like these heels, Christine," Erik said coldly. "I find them distasteful and quite below your usual dress sense. They make you look cheap."

He briefly felt a pang of regret at his harsh words when she burst out crying but he would not be stopped now that he had found out what she had done. "Pull yourself together… I do not need a pathetic little girl littering my home."

"Why are you being so _cruel_?" Christine sobbed.

"Do not think you know the meaning of cruel," he hissed. "You will learn though… that you will." He bent forward and ripped the shoe from her foot, breaking the clasp in the process. "I have been terribly remiss in your disciplining over the years and it is time I made up for that."

A few seconds later, the waiter returned with Erik's credit card, looking very surprised at the young woman who was clearly crying and had her head bowed to try to hide it.

Erik watched him walk away and then turned back to Christine, surprised to see her looking up at him, suddenly incensed, her eyes sparkling brightly. "What gives you the right," she hissed right back at him, "to have everything _your_ way? What gives you the right to dictate to me what exactly I am to do with my life? Who I am to spend my time with…? What I am to wear…? What right do you have to take something of mine without asking and break it just because you do not approve of it?" She got up without saying another word to him and pulled her broken shoe out of his hands as she took off her other one and walked out of the restaurant as though it was the most common thing in the world to dine barefoot.

Erik stood up and ran after her, collecting her coat and scarf from the host as he went by. When he got outside, however, he became aware that she was not in his car, but, in fact, walking along the side of the road in the general direction of their home.

Sighing, he ignored his anger for a moment as he got into the driver's side of his car and drove up the road towards her. He slowed down when he was beside her and rolled the automatic window on the passenger's side down as he attempted to get her to get in. "You can't really expect to walk all the way home barefoot – do you know how childish you are being?"

She stopped suddenly and leaned in the passenger window, giving Erik the impression that he had won without any effort. But, instead of saying anything, she reached out her hand and placed it on his chest, confusing him greatly in her tenderness… until she abruptly scraped her fingers down his chest and ripped off the breast pocket of his favourite dress coat. She backed away before he could react and continued to walk along the road, her shoes still in hand. It had been a childish act… but it had made her feel better.

Erik, however, was livid… he growled at his now-ruined suit and threw the detached piece of cloth that had, up until recently, been a pocket, onto the seat to his left. He was not going to drive off and leave her walking home alone at night, wearing a breathtaking dress and no shoes, so, he stopped the car beside her, got out and then proceeded to pick her up, choosing not to give her any option but to come home with him. She struggled desperately but he easily subdued her and threw her shoes into the car before setting her in the passenger seat and using a make-shift rope out of the backseat blanket to tie her to the seatback as well as placing her seatbelt on her.

"Untie me right now, Erik."

"Or what…?"

"You cannot keep me tied up forever, you know."

"Yes, I know… just until we get home. Then I will tie you to your bed and lock you in your room until you see sense."

"You can't do that," she said, incredulous.

"It will amuse me greatly to see you try to stop me…"

For most of the car ride home, they both remained silent – Erik basking in his triumph and Christine trying to think of a way to get back at him. At about five minutes from their house, however, she managed to get her arms free and pulled the blanket away from her, throwing it at her feet. Erik noticed and pulled into a nearby lay-by before she could do anything.

"I am quite ready to chloroform you before you cause me any more hassle…"

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Wouldn't I?" He made a show of reaching across her into the glove compartment and Christine brought her hand forward and ripped his cufflink off out of no more than a show of anger than to do any real good to prevent him. In turn, he broke the strap of her dress – unwilling to be outdone even in such a strange competition. Christine gasped and brought her hand up to hold her dress in place against her chest as he smiled triumphantly from his seat.

Needing to take the smug look off of his face, she took her seatbelt off and turned towards him, kneeling in her seat. He found himself watching in a strange sort of fascination and didn't try to stop her as she laid her hands upon his chest and ripped his waistcoat open, the little buttons flying everywhere in the car, before he placed his hands at her waist and ripped the seams of her bodice open, effectively ridding her of the whole top half of her dress. However, he was more eager to continue their strange little game of dominance than to ogle her underwear.

She leaned across the gear stick and handbrake, dragging his ruined dress coat and waistcoat off of him, subsequently paying similar attention to his previously unmarred dress shirt. Before she could pull back, however, he caught her bare upper arms in his hands and smiled at her in a way she could not quite decipher… He was untowardly attracted to her display of anger and would have gone on to show her had she not just knelt on his unmentionables.

"_Christ_," he shouted, in pain, as he let go of her arms and bent double.

"You deserved that."

He growled and drew a knife out of his pocket, surprising her. She was scared, truly scared, of what he might do for just a second until she realised that this was Erik – her _Angel_ – and he would not hurt her. Before she could blink again, he had her pinned to the seat and cut through the remainder of her dress more out of anger than anything else. Again, he returned to his seat and smiled, believing himself to have won, sure in the knowledge that the beautiful and innocent creature next to him would not be so bold as to rid him of his trousers.

Fortunately for him, he was right and he celebrated in his head the victory he had achieved before starting the car up and continuing their drive home.

Five minutes later, Erik, wearing just his trousers and an open, torn shirt on his back, lifted Christine out of the passenger seat as she wore nothing but her underwear and the remains of a beautiful dress. He looked back at the car ruefully – he would be finding buttons for weeks and he would have to come back for their clothes later… but he didn't care – it had been a fun little adventure in testing each other. And _he_ had won…

"Christine?" somebody said from their doorstep, looking oddly at the two of them as Erik stood there holding her in his arms, both of them wearing shreds of what they had previously been wearing.

"Oh, bugger…" Christine sighed.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, December 2005


	5. Chapter 5: A Step Too Far

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers and I do think David Attenborough is _darling_.

**A/N: **Thanks once again, dear reviewers… So, Erik is not very nice in the first part of this chapter but he knows when he's gone too far and he'll fix it… won't he?

Please read and review…

**Chapter 5: A Step Too Far…**

"_Christine?" somebody said from their doorstep, looking oddly at the two of them as Erik stood there holding her in his arms, both of them wearing shreds of what they had previously been wearing._

"_Oh, bugger…" Christine sighed._

"What the hell's going on?" Meg asked, bewildered at the sight in front of her. She had just arrived a minute ago and had rung the doorbell before hearing Erik's car pull up into the drive. Now, she was confronted with the sight of her best friend in the arms of her foster-father, both of them wearing little in the way of clothing and Christine very much without her shoes.

"Meghan," Christine started as Erik attempted to cover her where the dress – what was left of the dress – was not. "I know this looks… _suspect_. But I swear to you that I can explain…"

"Really…? 'Cause it looks to me and the rest of the world like you've just been having sex in his car…"

"You are being lewd and absurd, Miss Giry," Erik said, glaring at her as he unlocked the door and brought Christine inside. "I suggest you go home before I call your mother."

"Call her then – see what she does when I tell her what you've been doing to your daughter…"

Erik lowered Christine to her feet in the entrance hall and stormed over to the offending girl on his doorstep. "You would dare to threaten _me_? Watch it, girl, I am not one to allow bothersome individuals to continue to cause me grief…"

"I can't believe you just said that…"

"Well, believe it because it is the closest thing to a warning you are going to receive from me."

"Erik," Christine said firmly from behind him, turning him around to face her. "Don't threaten Meg – it isn't _her_ fault that you are in such a foul mood." She then turned towards her best friend and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Meg… for all his front, he would never hurt you."

Meg then watched as Erik became angry at Christine again and placed his hands on her shoulders so that she could not move away. "Don't you ever speak for me again, do you understand? I won't have you undermining me." He turned back to face Meg. "You can't come in – Christine is grounded and she will not be receiving visitors until I see fit to let her." He moved to slam the door in her face but Meg quickly put her foot there to stop him, worried for what he might do to her friend.

Christine, however, seemed to sense that and tried to reassure her. "It's alright, Meg – he won't hurt me… he'll make a lot of idle threats and then he'll calm down and apologise. I'm not really grounded."

"I can't believe your cheek, Christine," Erik hissed, successfully closing the door behind him this time as Meg stood outside for a while, unsure of what to do for the best. "You would dare to go against what I just said _again_…?"

"I'm going upstairs, Erik… when you've cooled down, I'll be waiting for my apology but I certainly can't talk to you when you're like this."

Livid, Erik slammed his fist against the wall next to her and took hold of her, dragging her forcefully up the stairs. "I don't think so, _sweetheart_… you will stay in your room where _I_ have put you until _I_ decide that you can come out. You will think about what you've done and then you will tell me what you did wrong and swear to me that it'll never happen again." Still in his rage-induced trance-like state, he went as far as to bind her wrists behind her back and throw her on top of the bed before locking both of the doors that led to her room. He would not be swayed to mercy this night…

* * *

Erik opened his eyes lazily and spent a few minutes in silent confusion before looking at his bedside clock and wondering why Christine hadn't woken him up. It was late morning and she was at least three hours behind in getting him up. He fumed silently… perhaps she had decided to have a lie-in and he would have to make his own breakfast. He didn't like that idea one bit. It was not that he was a bad cook, but rather that he didn't have his angel's patience – she always made sure that he had eaten properly whereas he would probably just go without if he didn't have her there to look after. Many years ago, it had been a habit of his to eat rarely and unhealthily until he had found in his care a very lovely young girl whom he would not let go without. Since then, he had become used to one or other of them making breakfast for both of them and he rather enjoyed not being hungry all day. Speaking of which, his stomach was rumbling and she was still nowhere to be seen. 

He got out of bed begrudgingly, slipping his favourite robe over his shoulders and decided to have a look for his angel – she could not have gotten far… But, she was not in the kitchen, she was not in the lounge, she was not in the conservatory, she was not in the dining room, she was not in the breakfast room – she was not downstairs…

So he went back upstairs and he headed straight for the music room because it was late morning and it wasn't like her to lie in so late. But, she was not there, and she was not in the library, she was not in the study, she was not in his room, she was not in any of the guest rooms – she could only be in her own room…

But, it wasn't until he found her door oddly locked that he remembered what had transpired the previous evening and what exactly he had done before locking that door. Hurriedly, he turned the key in the lock and swung the door open before moving to the still figure in the bed who had not appeared to have moved very far since he had last seen her.

"Christine," he said cautiously from the foot of her bed. He had the unaccountable fear that he had somehow hurt her. Approaching her slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed behind her and placed a hand upon her arm. It was cold from having the covers off of her all night and he felt awful, sharp pangs of guilt stab him for losing his temper so easily with her.

Quickly, he got something to cut the ties away from her wrists and then turned her over onto her back to see if she was alright, even as his heart thundered wildly within his chest in panic. "Darling, waken up…"

To his utter relief, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him for a moment, a slight frown upon her face. Then, quite to his shock, he earned a sharp slap across his cheek before she slipped out of the bed beneath him and walked into her closet, presumably to change out of her ruined dress.

He was still propped up on her bed, holding a hand against his cheek in shock, when she walked out wearing more casual clothes and an obvious air of anger. "Christine," he said, unsure of what else he could do. But she just kept moving, ignoring him as she walked right out of the now unlocked door that led into the hall.

"Christine, come back…"

"Or what, Erik…?" she shouted, breaking her silence as he followed her down the stairs. "Will you tie me up again? Will you lock me in my room?"

"I'm sorry…"

"Is that supposed to make up for everything? You know, before, people used to tell me that you were like this… but I didn't believe them – I thought you would _never _do anything to hurt me…"

"I didn't mean to… I just get these terrible rages and I don't know what I'm doing…"

"All the more reason why I shouldn't be around you…" she said as she took his car keys and unlocked the doors.

"What are you doing?" he asked frantically, trying to get between her and the car.

"Don't worry, _Erik_, I'm not trying to steal your car… I'm just getting my shoes from last night."

"Why do _they_ matter – I'm trying to talk to you?" That earned him another stinging slap across the face and a cold glare.

"They were my mother's…"

"Oh, Christine, I am so sorry…" He felt like an utter fool for everything. For having listened to that bitch, Carlotta… for implying that she'd slept with that _boy_… for scaring her… for hurting her… for having broken something of such sentimental value to his angel… for having called her 'cheap'… for having threatened her… for having drawn a knife on her… for having ripped her new dress in his twisted temper… for having dragged her upstairs… for having tied her up – more than once that night… for having locked her in her room all night without providing her with any means to take care of herself… for having been able to get to sleep even while she suffered in the room adjoining his… for having forgotten in the morning… for having been more worried about where his breakfast was than remembering where _she_ was… and for having let it get this far…

He apparently hadn't noticed her re-enter the house and hastily made his way back in so that he might try to make it up to her properly. He could hear her moving around in her room and took the stairs two at a time to get back to her.

"What are you doing?" he asked desperately as he walked in to see her packing a suitcase.

"I'm packing, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Why are you packing? Why are you…? What is…? _Why_…?"

"Let's see, let me make a verbal list of all the reasons why I am _not_ staying with you…" She proceeded to count them off on her fingers, though he was too concerned with what she was doing to pay attention.

"But why are you packing?"

"I'm leaving, Erik – I'm leaving _you_…"

* * *

"Erik, what's wrong?" 

"She's gone…" he whispered, just another tear of many rolling down his face.

"What do you mean 'she's gone'?" Piers asked as he opened his door fully to Erik and welcomed him in.

"She's gone…"

"Yes, I heard that part… is there more to this story?" He got Erik seated in one of the armchairs in his lounge before sitting across from him, himself.

"She's gone…"

"Christine?"

He nodded solemnly and lowered his head into his hands as Piers got up to get him a drink. "I can't believe she's gone… we haven't spent a night apart in thirteen years."

"Where has she gone?"

"Home, she said…"

"_Home…?_ I don't understand…"

"She's gone home… to _her_ home… to her house where she lived with her parents…"

"She still has her old house?" he asked, confused. "Erik… forgive my bluntness, but, what the hell did you do?"

"What _didn't_ I do…? The upshot of it is that I insulted her, broke something her mother gave to her and locked her in her room all night…"

There was something about Erik that made him want _everyone_ to hate him as opposed to just hating himself, so, he felt compelled to tell Piers the whole story when he asked and recanted what she has said before she left…

"Why haven't you gone after her? Called her…? Sent a bleeding telegram for all I care…?"

"She told me not to follow her… that, if I did, she would tell social services what I had done to her…"

"That's it?" Piers asked, astounded that _that_ was all that was keeping Erik from his Christine. "You're telling me that you're too frightened of what social services will do to you if you go and try to reconcile with your daughter…? That is not the Erik I know…" Actually, he supposed _nobody_ really _knew_ Erik… except Christine.

"No, I couldn't care less what they would do to me – I care that they will take her off of me… that they will put her in a care home with all of those unwanted creatures and place her with some godforsaken carers somewhere who don't love her like I do… I care that she will be unhappy… I care about _her_. I love her."

"I know that you love her, Erik… it is not hard to see. You do not hide it – and she can see it too… Leave it tonight, hmm? Go and see her in the morning when she's cooled down and she will forgive you, I know she will. It might take some time and some serious flattery on your part but you will be together again, I'm sure."

"But, I don't think I can go a whole night without seeing her…" Erik complained, raising his head as he took the brandy from Piers.

"You can't go _one_ night?"

"No…"

"Then you know what you have to do," Piers said, placing his hand on top of Erik's glass before he took anything to drink. "Go to her… you're lucky you didn't drink anything or else you might _just_ have to wait until morning… Oh, and Erik…?"

"Hmm?"

"You might want to think about changing out of your pyjamas… it's two in the afternoon…"

* * *

"Oh, I _knew_ I shouldn't have left you alone with him," Meg said as she placed her arm around Christine. "I should have called my mum and told her what was happening…" 

"No, Meg… it's alright, she couldn't have done anything…"

"She could have gotten you away from him…"

"Oh, Meg," Christine sobbed, still crying. "I don't _want_ to be away from him."

"Christine, I know you're reluctant to let go because he raised you… but, you can't let him keep doing these things to you. Victims of domestic abuse often–"

"_Domestic abuse…? _What are you talking about, Meg? He doesn't _abuse_ me."

"Christine, I know you feel you have to protect him, but, he's not here – he can't hurt you… you did the right thing, leaving him. Now, if you'll just tell someone you can stop him from ever doing it again."

"He hasn't done anything," Christine said defensively, pulling away from Meg.

"Just the other week, you told me that he'd kissed you… now, he's practically undressed you, been violent towards you and tied you up! Not to mention, locking you in your room all night… what does he have to do – how far does he have to go to get you to realise that he is abusive towards you? Does he have to kill you?"

"Erik would _never_ do that!" Christine shouted, jumping up from the sofa in shock. "To even _think_ such a thing is blasphemous… You don't know him like _I _do – you haven't seen him every day and every night for the last thirteen years. I know what he is really like – you only know what I tell you and I don't tell you the good things because they are between me and my Angel and not to be shared with anyone else."

Meg sighed, exasperated and unsure of what to do. She was startled out of her seat when the doorbell rang and Christine, still incensed, walked out of the room to the door, knowing precisely who would be waiting there with his proverbial tail between his very nice legs.

She looked at him through the one-way videophone and pressed the button so that he could hear her. "Yes?" she asked him coldly as Meg came slowly to stand at her side while she talked.

"Darling, please, let me in so that we might talk."

"What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear?"

"My beautiful child," he said, swallowing thickly. "If you let me in… I will explain to you why I am the way I am. I'll tell you everything… everything that has happened in my life to make me that way… the reasons I fought for you so readily…"

"Don't let him in," Meg whispered from her side.

Partly to spite Meg and show her what he _really_ like, and partly because she wanted to hear what had happened in her Angel's life to make him so possessive of her, she put the code in to open the gate and waited until he was at the door before unlocking it for him. He had always had a key to her home – but, out of his courtesy and love towards her, he would not take that liberty.

He was quite surprised to see Meg standing beside Christine when he was let in and both of them were equally quite surprised to see that he seemed to still be wearing his pyjamas and robe.

"I'll see you later, Meg," Christine said, without taking her eyes off of Erik.

"Oh, no, no way – I am not leaving you alone with _him_ again… I won't make _that_ mistake twice."

"Meg, please – just leave us alone… I want to hear what he has to say."

Reluctantly, Meg walked out onto the doorstep and watched as the door was shut in her face before walking down the drive and out of the gates purposefully. She didn't care what Christine said – listening to her had gotten her friend hurt last night when she could've stopped it – so, she resolved to tell her mother as soon as she got home. She would be as fast as she could and she knew that her mother would know exactly what to do…

* * *

Even though he could understand it, Erik was hurt when he moved to embrace his angel – as he always did in greeting or when she was upset – and she backed away from him, looking away pointedly. When had they become so awkward around each other? _When **you** tied her up!_ a voice he did not want to listen to said. 

"Go through," she said, pointing towards a door in the back of the entrance hall where he knew the sitting room was. It had been a few years since they'd been in her house and many of the dustcovers were still in place… it was a slightly unnerving situation.

"I'd offer you something to drink but I have only recently found myself living here and I don't have anything in," she said bitterly as he sat down on the sofa where she and Meg had previously been sitting.

"Christine, please, come home," Erik pleaded, pulling her unceremoniously to sit beside him. "There is everything you need there and I will always be there to protect you…"

"And who'll protect me from _you_, Erik?" she asked.

He cringed at that, hurt beyond words that he'd made her feel that she needed protection from him. Was there any hope for them?

Abruptly, he was surprised to feel something fall upon his shoulders until he realised that she had put a blanket around him. He couldn't understand how she could be so considerate and angry at him all at once. But he smiled…

_Yes_, he decided, _there was always hope…_

His smile was confusing Christine beyond belief as he remembered another time he had discovered hope in their relationship… and he found himself oddly compelled to tell her about it.

"Do you remember that time, last year, when you couldn't sleep and you made me stay up with you?" he asked, sentimentally.

_

* * *

Two figures sat lazily next to each other on the sofa in the living room of their house, in a state of quiet bafflement. They were both staring straight ahead at the picture on the screen in front of them, quite perplexed at what they were watching… _

_Christine had wakened up during the night and hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so, being the utterly selfless and considerate girl that she was, had proceeded to jump on top of Erik while he slept, subsequently scaring the bejesus out of him, but still reaching her ultimate goal of waking him up too. She had then dragged him downstairs still in his pyjamas and a state of confusion to the living room where they were now seated with the television on._

_They had been there for about an hour now, both of them too tired to move and half-lying, half-sitting in a lazy heap half on top of each other with their respective legs tucked under themselves so that their bare feet wouldn't get cold. It was only now, after a full sixty minutes of bewilderment, that Erik had the presence of mind to speak…_

"_What are we watching?" he asked, still staring straight ahead in a sort of morbid fascination._

"_I think it's some kind of exercise programme…"_

"_Who exercises at three in the morning?"_

"_People with far too much time on their hands…"_

"_Mmm…" he hummed vaguely, yet still not having turned away from the screen. "Are you punishing me?"_

"_Punishing you? Why should I be punishing you?"_

"_I'm not entirely sure… but you **are**."_

"_Then why are you still watching?"_

"_Can't seem to tear my eyes away…"_

"_Mmm, me, neither…"_

_Unexpectedly, both of them tilted their heads to the left at exactly the same time and made an odd sort of pained noise in their throats as they screwed up their faces. _

"_Christine," Erik gasped desperately, raising his knees to his chest in protection as he saw a position that he didn't particularly like because of its threat to a specific part of his anatomy. "Why are we watching this?"_

"_Remote… too far…" she said, raising her hand as far as she could without moving the rest of her to demonstrate._

"_Oh…" he mumbled, seeming to accept that reasoning even as they both continued to watch. "Will it be over soon, do you think?"_

"_I don't think so, Angel… this is the Exercise Channel… or some such rubbish."_

_A haunted look came across Erik's face and he could swear he had started sweating in panic. "Tell me, what bloody reason could there be that the station was set to the Exercise Channel? **Who** watches this stuff? In **our** home…? And why, **why**, do we even **have** the Exercise Channel? Why am I paying for this tosh that I never watch?" _

"_Such are the mysteries of life, my Angel…"_

"_Kill me… kill me, now…"_

_Instead, Christine shifted position slightly and rested more against his side, bringing her hand up absently to tangle in his hair. It would not have been much to anyone else, but, to Erik, it was everything and, even as they lazed there, entranced by the television, he came up with an idea to make her happier… _

_He set to fashioning a makeshift lasso out of the belt on his robe and used his perfect aim to loop the noose around the remote which was lying on one of the adjoining armchairs. It was not as precise as his 'normal' lasso, but it did the trick and brought the control to the floor in front of him as he gathered the required energy to pick it up._

"_Here you go, sweetheart," he said, handing it to her and then wrapping his arms around her waist. "Your choice…"_

"_My hero…" She started flicking through the stations… _

"_It's at times like these that I realise exactly how many pointless channels I am paying for… I don't think we've watched even half of them before… I think we could live with terrestrial, do you know that?"_

"_So," she said, ignoring his little rant, "we have a choice of… the Ashes, a rerun of the rugby that was on yesterday, a documentary about bugs with David Attenborough… or a film with his brother."_

"_One of the Attenboroughs, I think, love."_

"_Hmm… David then…" she said, smiling to herself._

"_But you hate insects…"_

"_Yes, Angel, but have you ever heard David Attenborough talk… he has a wonderful voice… and he's so funny – I saw him on Parkinson and–"_

"_I don't feel like watching bugs, tonight – I think I deserve the right to choose seeing as **you** woke **me** up…" he said jealously, taking the control away from her. "You don't like cricket, do you?"_

"_Actually–"_

"_Rugby…?"_

"_Well–"_

"_**Richard** Attenborough…?"_

"_Not especially…"_

"_Good – we're watching that film then," he said decisively, placing the remote control on the arm of the sofa furthest away from her._

_Christine looked at him oddly as he basked in his triumph next to her. He was so… **strange**._

"_Don't you like David Attenborough, Angel?"_

_**Not anymore…** "I'm trying to listen to the film, Christine."_

_She looked between the television screen and her Angel again, perplexed not for the first time that night. "It's the break… and there is an advert on for one of those all-night hotlines than **men** usually phone, if you get what I'm saying…"_

_He hadn't even noticed and looked back at her, preferring that she know that he was jealous than think that he was interested in talking to the bottle-blonde woman draping herself across a misplaced bed while talking on the phone and making some very suggestive faces towards the camera, which actually completely unnerved him. He hoped he'd never meet a woman like that…_

"_Are you… jealous?" Christine asked suspiciously. "You are, aren't you?"_

"_I am not jealous," he said, trying to appear indifferent. Unfortunately, his lovely companion knew him all too well…_

"_What was all that about then?"_

"_I merely do not feel like watching a programme about bugs…"_

"_But you **like** Beautiful Planet… Why are you jealous, Angel?"_

"_I am **not** jealous! And, if you will keep going on like this, then David Attenborough can have you…"_

"_You **are** jealous," Christine laughed, turning Erik back to face her as he looked away. "But why…?"_

"_I'm not jealous…"_

"_Whatever you say, Angel…"_

_What was this peculiar need he had for her to believe him? He flipped the channel back over reluctantly and held his head high. "If you really want to watch a documentary about bugs then we shall…"_

"_Thank you, Angel," Christine beamed at him and he decided it was all worth it if she just did that. And, perhaps, just perhaps, it spoke of hope for the two of them that she was attracted to a man of that age, even if just his voice… because, goodness knows, Erik, even, was younger than him and, if she could look at a man like David Attenborough and watch a programme about insects because of him, then she could do things like that for Erik, surely. _

_At least, he **hoped** so…_

* * *

"Well, that was rather… random. What has it got to do with what happened last night?" 

"Does it not speak of our relationship? Does it not show you how well we get on – how good we are for each other?" he asked, hopeful.

"No, it speaks of your jealousy even then and your _need_ to have things your own way. It speaks of the tantrums you throw when you do _not_ get your own way and it speaks of how childish you can be…"

For all the world, he had not expected _that_ interpretation to come from his angel about the little memory he had retrieved. "But, I let you watch what you wanted in the end… I gave in. I showed you that you meant more to me than being so childish. I stayed up all night with you watching bugs and then I fell asleep next to you, bent into an awkward position so that _you_ would be comfortable… I pulled the blanket right up to your chin so that you would not go cold even as it left me half uncovered and shivering in the unheated room. And, when morning came and I couldn't sleep, I carried you up to bed and made you your favourite breakfast so that you wouldn't have to get up. I would never do all that for _anyone _else," he said sincerely, placing his hand beneath her chin as he saw her soften.

"Do you know how special you are to me?" She nodded vaguely, too overcome with an emotion she couldn't readily decipher to speak. "Do you know how much I love you?" He received no response for this even as he raised her chin so that she would look at him. "No… how could you? No one in the world could ever know how much I love you – it is my gift to you… for you to know that you are the most loved woman in all of the universe – no creature has ever loved more fantastically or more fully a being of any majesty than I love you, _beloved_."

Christine looked straight into his eyes, suspiciously, testing his sincerity. But, she could find no trace of deception and prepared herself to give in to his requests that she come home.

"I'll go home with you, Erik, if you do as you promised and tell me everything about your life as soon as we get there… I don't know about you, but I need a cup of tea and some lunch inside me."

"Yes, beloved, anything so that you might come home," he said happily, rejoicing that she believed him and would perhaps, in time, forgive him for his misdeeds upon her. He was very much ready to try to embrace her again when he was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. "Who could that be?"

"Probably Meg back to check that you haven't done away with me and left my carcass in the bathtub," she said lightly.

However, Erik did not take any talk – serious or otherwise – on the subject of her death, to be _light_… "Don't ever say that…" he said emotionally, standing up with her and making sure that she knew he was terribly serious before heading towards the door with her in a similar fashion to the way they would if they were at home and had never even fallen out.

"I don't believe it," Erik sighed, his arm draped casually around Christine's shoulders as they looked at the picture on the videophone. "What is _she_ doing here?"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, December 2005

I'm sorry I keep ending in cliffies… but, at least I resolved one thing in this chapter…


	6. Chapter 6: Much Too Much it Hurts

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Charles, Steph and Piers.

**A/N: **Thank you, dear reviewers…you are all so brilliant. I know I haven't updated this one in a while and I've been meaning to get back to it – I just had a bad experience with my laptop where it ate six thousand words of my next update and left no trace – the technician could not even retrieve it. Do bear in mind, though, that this story is a sort of fluffy, strange pet project of mine and it was never meant to be as serious as the TAL, for instance. I'm happy to write a little (well, actually it'll be quite long) semi far-fetched story that it is just a bit of fun – at least, for _me_ anyway. Alright, enough ranting – I am impatient to update.

Thanks to **Ripper** – God, you're great and you'd better be happy that I've updated. Come on, show me a smile. Thanks to **erik'sangel527** – you wonderful thing, you. And thanks to everyone, I don't know where to start…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 6: Much Too Much it Hurts…**

"_I don't believe it," Erik sighed, his arm draped casually around Christine's shoulders as they looked at the picture on the videophone. "What is **she** doing here?" _

"What do you want?" Christine said into the speaker, very aware of Erik's agitated form next to her, who, she knew, very much wanted to pace.

"To speak to you…"

"About what?"

"Please, Christine, if you'll just let me in, I'll say my piece and leave…"

"What do you think, Angel?" Christine asked, unsure of what to do. This was becoming laughable…

"I cannot say… I find myself curious as to what she thinks she can do and yet, at the same time, I don't want her anywhere near you…"

"She's not going to do anything as long as you're here, is she?"

"I doubt it, beloved. Besides, I would protect my darling against anything… no harm of any sort can come to you – I won't _let_ it."

Christine leaned forward and entered the code for the gate, out of Erik's view, the heavy wrought iron swinging open again and closing when she re-entered the code.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Erik spat out when she got to the door. "You know, this is bordering on stalking, Stephanie… how did you even know about this place?"

"Courteous as ever, Erik, but I didn't come here to talk to _you_," she said dryly, stepping passed him into the entrance hall. "I've come here to talk to Christine… _alone_."

"Look, Miss–"

"Steph…"

"Look, Steph," Christine started again. "I don't know why you're so adamant to talk to me but I really have no idea who you are or what, if anything, you ever meant to me…"

"You'll remember," she said firmly, "if you give me a chance… You'll remember all the things we used to do together – how well I took care of you…"

Erik cleared his throat loudly and drew Christine back against him in anger. "_You_ didn't take care of her – _you_ didn't have _any_ hand in raising her – _I_ raised her."

"See, this is the reason I wanted to speak to you on your own…"

"Absolutely _not_!" Erik protested, ready to turf the woman out of Christine's house.

Christine sighed, exasperated, and pulled her Angel by the hand into the sitting room again. "We can all sit down together and talk," she called back to Stephanie. "Or _you_ can leave but I'm not talking to you without Erik there."

"Fine, so long as he doesn't interrupt like he always does…"

Erik was about to make a snide remark when Christine stood lightly on his foot and pushed him down onto the sofa before sitting next to him and leaving Stephanie with no other option than to sit across from them. _Blessed are the peacemakers…_

"If you behave," Christine whispered in Erik's ear, "I will go easier on you when we get back home… so, don't say a word, don't glare at her and don't even acknowledge her if you can manage it."

He made a show of placing his arm around her to make sure that Stephanie got the idea that they were very close and could not be separated.

"I'm not a threat," the woman said indignantly. "I'm not going to attack her, you know. Well, of course you know… you've left me alone with her a thousand times in the past."

"A mistake I–" he was cut off by a swift elbow in the ribs from Christine and spent the next few minutes in silence nursing his wounded pride more than his wounded ribcage.

"What do you have to say?" Christine asked, trying to expedite the time this woman spent in her house. Actually, she supposed, it was more her parents' house than her own – she had always felt at home with Erik in _their_ house and it made her forgive him just that little bit more in her mind for no other reason than she liked living with him. Really, though, that was a bloody good reason, she thought. That was not to say, of course, that he wouldn't get it in the neck when they got home.

"I suppose he's told you about earlier… about what I said."

Christine turned to look back at Erik, who was stuck against her side. "He hasn't told me anything."

"Lo, and behold…" she said dryly, glaring at Erik. "Well, I might as well tell you now so that we can get it over with…"

"She's barren," Erik said spitefully before she could say anything more.

He earned another sharp elbow in the ribs and Christine pulled his face round to look at her. "That's an awful thing to say, Erik!" He just looked at her indifferently until she placed both of her hands on his shoulders to ground him. "Erik, tell me you're not this cruel… tell me you don't really mean that. What if _I_ was unable to have children, Erik? What if I _am _unable to have children? I won't know yet… will you say such things to me if I discover that I can't?"

"No, no, of _course_ not… I'd _never_… I'm sorry."

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Erik – if you'll always need me to be your conscience… if you'll always have to apply a situation to me to see if it's right or wrong… if you'll always have to imagine yourself saying something to me to understand whether or not it's hurtful to someone else…"

He looked sadly at her and took one of her hands in his, kissing the fingertips lightly. "My utmost and sincerest apologies, Stephanie," he said without looking away from Christine as he replaced his conscience's hand back upon his shoulder. He was really apologising to _her_. "I was unspeakably cruel and I should not have said such a thing."

Stephanie looked at him in awe, amazed at what he had said to her. Christine just rested her head against his upper chest, pleased that her gentle Angel was back.

"You were saying?" she murmured.

"Well," Stephanie started. "You obviously don't remember me but I was your childminder… now, though, I'm a social worker and I got a call not long ago from someone concerned that a minor was being abused…"

"What's that got to do with us?" Christine asked.

"_You_ were named as the minor involved…"

"I don't understand," she mumbled in shock.

"A member of the community was concerned that your foster-father was hurting you. Apparently, this individual believes that he tied you up last night… is that true?"

"_No_," Christine said defensively. She may be angry at him, but she would protect her Angel and their life together against anyone.

Erik, who had remained silent throughout, though, bowed his head in shame. He was about to confess, but Christine could see it in his demeanour and stopped him by changing their positions slightly and sitting between his legs, resting her back against his chest like she used to do as a child. It reminded him of what he would be losing if he uttered the truth to this woman across from them, and he would not risk that – not ever. He merely wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her in place.

"We can talk alone, Christine, if you'd prefer… you don't have to continue to live like this," Stephanie said gently, reaching her hand out to place on Christine's knee.

"Live like _what_, exactly?" she asked angrily, moving her knee out of the way. "He _dotes_ upon me. I'm the happiest person in the world, I can assure you. And, I don't know who told you that he hurts me, for Christ's sake, but it's all rubbish." Oh, she was so going to kill Meg for this…

"I know you must feel uncomfortable talking about this in front of him–"

"Erik isn't the one making me feel uncomfortable… it's you and all this talk of abuse. It isn't true and that's the end of it. And, you know damned well that you can't do _anything_ so long as I am against what you are saying."

Stephanie sighed loudly and took a deep, calming breath before looking back up at Christine. "I was hoping that it wouldn't have to come to this… if you won't talk to me on your own then I'll be forced to relay my concerns to my superiors."

"What are you saying? That, if I don't speak to you, you'll lie about what I've said?" Christine asked, staring at her in disbelief. "You know it won't work, though, don't you – they will have to talk to me eventually and I'll tell them what _really _went on."

"But that'll take weeks of red tape and in that time he won't be allowed near you. I'm going to be leaving the social services anyway… All I'm asking for is a few minutes…"

"What _for_?"

"Hear me out…"

"Angel," Christine said after a slight pause. He was just glaring at Stephanie and Christine knew he'd be kicking himself for ever having let her into their life together. "Angel, why don't you go upstairs and change into some day clothes? There should be some of your clothes still in the spare room…"

Erik was quite reluctant to speak lest he earn another elbow to the ribs but he was also very reluctant to leave Christine alone with this woman. She was clearly demented.

"Go on, Angel…"

Again reluctantly, he repositioned Christine into the seat next to him and got up, making his way slowly towards the staircase in the entrance hall. Christine just watched him go sadly.

When they were alone, Stephanie brought Christine's attention back to her by clearing her throat as she started to talk. "You have no idea what it's like not to be able to have a child…"

"Why don't you adopt, then?"

"It isn't the same – it's not like having your own child."

"So, what are you doing here?" Christine asked again, confused beyond words. "It's not as though I'm even related to you and, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not a child anymore."

"I was more of a mother to you than anyone else ever was…"

"I can't believe you just said that… Do you have any idea how _offensive_ that is? You weren't my mother – I don't even _remember_ you. My mother was a wonderful, beautiful woman who would never have threatened to hurt my Angel because I wouldn't listen to her."

"Perhaps, one day, when you've had a child of your own, you'll understand why I'm doing this – you'll understand what it's like for others who are not so lucky and then you'll realise why you mean so much to me. Perhaps, if I _had_ been able to have my own child then I wouldn't have to be here now."

"You're _that_ desperate for company that I have to spend time with you so that you won't do anything to hurt Erik?" Christine asked coldly.

Stephanie shook her head slowly and smiled unnervingly at Christine. "No, no, no, you don't understand… you have it all wrong. I don't expect you to spend time with me – but you are the closest female relative that I have and I thought you could do something for me."

"We are _not_ related and I still don't understand what you're doing here…"

"Actually, we _are_ sort of related… My full name is Stephanie Atkinson – Charles Atkinson, your mother's uncle, you remember, is my father… When he was refused custody of you and since I was already a childminder, he asked me to watch out for you and try to get the position Erik was offering."

Christine was reeling from the shock of her unexpected words and was terribly unprepared for what she was about to say.

"So we _are _related – more so than you and Erik will ever be anyway. And you are the only young, female relative that I have… I hoped you might one day soon come around to the idea of donating an egg so that I can have a baby. I realise it is a lot to ask – but it is not as though you will be having children for a good few years yet; they will only be wasted. You will, no doubt, go on to have many more children one day."

For several moments, Christine just stared at her, incredulous. She could have sworn her jaw had dropped open. "Erik! _Erik!_ **_Erik!_**"

* * *

"What do you mean '_he tied her up_'?" Ada Giry asked her daughter. 

"She told me; he went completely berserk – I even saw him while he was livid – he was about ready to throttle her and then he took her upstairs and tied her up in her room."

"_Erik_? Tied _Christine_ up…? You're sure?" Ada asked, incredulous at the idea that Erik would ever do something like that to Christine. She knew that he had a temper shorter than most but she had never seen him lose it with his Christine before. Something must have happened…

"Yes, Mum, she _told_ me – I was going to call you last night and tell you that I thought something was going on but Christine convinced me that he was all front. I _knew_ I should have called you…"

"It's alright, Meghan, you weren't to know. Look, I'll handle this now, you don't have to worry about it. Where is she now?"

"She's at her parents' house – she left him this morning because of what he'd done but, when I left, he had just gotten there and she let him in. I'm worried, Mum…"

"It's alright, Meg – he won't hurt her," she assured.

"But–"

"He _won't_ hurt her."

Meg had no choice but to believe her, though she conveniently left out the part where she had called social services on the way home and had told them everything…

* * *

"_You are the most arrogant man I have ever met," Ada commented as she watched Erik come to a stop in front of her. They were standing just outside of the courtroom, Erik fresh from having heard of his victory, a triumphant glare upon his face, the darling seven-year-old Christine standing at his side, his large hand comfortably engulfing hers._

"_I have every right show pride in winning – no, **keeping** – the right to have this little seraph living with me for, at least, the next eleven years. Or do you think I should be somehow disappointed that I won our two-year custody battle?" he asked, his happiness positively dripping off of him. He turned to look at the man at Ada's side and allowed the corners of his mouth to slip up into a conceited smile. "Charles," he greeted falsely. "Pity."_

_Charles Atkinson was never one to get violent, but, looking at the vile pride of the masked man before him, he found himself approaching him rapidly, at the very least, ready to share a few choice words with him. "Why you inconsiderate bast–"_

"_Ah, ah, ah," Erik mocked, stopping the man coming towards him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "No vulgar language in front of my Christine. I will not allow it. And you would do well not to show any violent behaviour in front of her either. I won't have her seeing that."_

_Charles growled something low in his throat and shook his head, sparing one last despairing look at the girl clutching Erik's hand, watching with something akin to amusement at her Angel's good humour. "I'll always be here for you… for **anything**."_

_Erik watched him leave and then turned to the angel at his side, lifting her into his arms and smiling as she began to giggle. "You **are** happy, aren't you? Staying with me…? You know that I would change anything to make you happier, don't you?"_

"_I **am** happy, Angel. Although…"_

"_Yes?" he asked tentatively, worried that something – some small, almost insignificant thing – was bothering her enough to make her unhappy._

"_I would be happier if you took me home."_

"_Of course, child. We are leaving right now. Together!" he vowed, unable to keep his happiness to himself. Leaving the building and heading out to the car park, he gave in to one last urge, turning to look back at Ada. "Tell me, madam, are you terribly disappointed that you did not win the honour of having custody of my Christine?"_

"_No."_

_He was so surprised by her answer that he stopped, bringing Christine more tightly towards his chest. Erik believed quite fully that everyone in the world should be miserable that they did not live with Christine and so, he had not been prepared for her answer. "What? You don't have to sound **so** pleased that you were not allowed to take her… Why did you waste two years of your life fighting a battle you were not prepared to win? Why did you put my angel through that?"_

"_It was not that, Erik," she said, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, I have only **just** realised… you are perfect for her. She'll never be happier than when she's with you."_

_And even now, ten years on, she still believed that. He just needed to be reminded of what he would be losing if he did not make it up to her._

* * *

Christine leapt off of the sofa and backed out of the room, right into her Angel's arms, who had been rushing down the stairs to get to her. 

"She's _demented_!" she cried, falling all over herself to get behind Erik, where she kept a death grip on the back of his suit.

"What did she do?"

"She's absolutely bloody barking!"

"Christine, _what did she do_?" he asked frantically even though he doubted he would get much sense out of her. "What did you do to her?" he then hissed, turning to face Stephanie as she came out of the living room towards them.

"I didn't do anything to her," she said almost indifferently.

Christine shrunk back behind him and rested her cheek against his back as she clung to him more tightly. "She's dangerous!"

Stephanie shook her head slowly. "I'm committed."

"You flipping well should be!"

"What did she do?" he asked again.

"I asked her to donate an egg," Stephanie supplied, folding her arms across her chest as she struggled to work out what was causing such chaos.

"You aren't going to, are you?" he asked, suddenly worried as he turned back to look at his little seraph. It may have sounded stupid but he did not want anyone having Christine's baby, but Christine. And he did not want anybody fathering Christine's child, disregarding even for the moment who brought it up, except himself. In fact, exactly what he wanted was for him to father Christine's baby and then for Christine to carry it to term, giving birth painlessly after sharing nine months of expectation together. And then he wanted them both to bring the child up, spending the rest of their lives bonded together because of it. He was very much the idealist.

Christine looked at Erik oddly. Her Angel could be so obtuse at times, when he had the inclination. "Do you think I would be clinging quite so tightly to your back if I were?"

"No, I suppose not."

"You suppose not? Erik, _do_ something," she whined.

"Alright."

* * *

"Oh, are you alright?" Meg asked frantically, rushing to the visibly shaken Christine as she answered the door to her parents' old house, letting Meg and her mother inside. "What did he do to you?" 

"I did not do anything to her, Miss Giry," Erik commented from his place sitting dejectedly on the stairs, his head resting in one hand. He had resigned himself to the fact that today was never going to be a normal day. He had phoned Stephanie's father when Christine had informed him of his identity and the hassled man had come to get her, referring only briefly to a few psychological problems she'd had as a result of her inability to conceive, before apologising profusely to his little neice, though not to Erik. "Not today anyway…"

"I don't understand…"

"Oh, Meg, I don't even know where to start," Christine sighed, enveloping her friend in a hug.

Pulling back to look at her, Meg decided it was a story best left till later. "I know this might not seem like the right time to announce it, but Mum and I have had an idea…" she declared after a moment, brighter than before. "We want you to come on holiday with us."

"What?"

Erik sucked in a breath as he processed what his beloved's friend had said. Go on holiday with them? He'd never allow it – she was far too precious, far too dear to be allowed to travel unprotected.

Christine looked over at her Angel… the way he was pouting, his bottom lip curling downwards as he regarded her and the new information he had received. It was safe to say that he was not a happy bunny, though she thought it was absolutely adorable. But she decided that it would be good practice for him to learn to live without her constant companionship again as he had not had to do for the last thirteen years.

"It'll do you good…" Meg continued, "to get away from everything for a while." _To get away from **him** for a while, more like_, she thought but did not say.

"Go on holiday with you? You're sure?" Christine asked, suddenly reasonably excited about the idea. Of course, she'd been on holiday a lot in the past – Erik had taken her all over the world – but that had always been just the two of them and was really like their home life moved to a different climate. It had been wonderful, yes, and she would never enjoy going with anyone more – but it was time she had a change and she believed it might just do them both some good to have a break from each other.

"Of course, Christine," Ada added. "It's about time you came away with us for a while… you need to spend more time with other women."

"And what if I do not agree?" Erik asked, recovering enough to speak for the first time that conversation. "I am her guardian, in case you'd forgotten. She needs my _permission_."

"Meg, Mrs. Giry, excuse us for a moment," Christine said, not taking her eyes off of Erik before leading him up the stairs by the hand and taking him into one of the unused rooms.

"Stop being such a baby and admit it to yourself that you cannot stop me," she scolded, pushing him to sit on the bed, just as soon as the door had closed.

"Cannot stop you? My dear," he laughed coldly. "I believe we are both aware that I can. And if I tell you that you can't go then you bloody well can't go. Let that be the end of the conversation."

"That's it settled then."

"Yes," he said after a moment, looking at her suspiciously because of how quickly she had agreed with him.

She nodded, smiling as she thought about a break. "I'm going."

"You are not!"

"Stop whining, Angel. It'll do you good to have the house to yourself for a while… get some peace and quiet."

"I don't want peace and quiet."

"Don't be silly. I know that you do – you complain about it enough."

"No, you're wrong. I love it when you interrupt me, I love it when I'm startled from a catnap on the sofa because you have suddenly burst into an inspired rendition of _The_ _Toreador_ _Song_ from _Carmen_, and I love it when you bring me things while I'm working, just because you think they'll make me more comfortable," he finished softly, his eyes gentle and dreamy as he stood and delicately caressed her cheek.

"You'll appreciate all of those things more when I get back. It won't be for long, Angel… I don't even know where we are going yet." She laughed, making him smile quite despite himself.

"But I appreciate them _now_," he almost whined. "I appreciate _you _– I am so lucky to have you and I know that. I _love _you!"

"I know you love me. And I love you just as much. But we do need a break from each other… it'll be worth it in the end, trust me."

"I don't want a break from you. I want to wake up every morning to breakfast together and a kiss on the cheek. I want to constantly find myself tripping over yet _another_ pair of your shoes. I want to have to take my own shoes off indoors and pad around like a mental patient or risk being shouted at by you. I want to come out of the shower to find that you've written me a message in the condensation on the mirror. I want _you_. And I want everything that makes us, _us_."

"Can you hear what you are saying? You want a maid who does everything for you and coddles you – not a…" she trailed off, hesitating. "What the hell am I to you anyway?" she finished angrily, annoyed that she did not know that even after thirteen years.

"You're my…" _What? Daughter – No, certainly not. Friend – No, she is so much more than that. Companion – Again, she is more. Partner – Partner in what, exactly? Co-inhabitant – That's just silly… like saying we're just flatmates. Spouse – God, I wish. Potential, yet unknowing, spouse – Close enough. The light of my life – Definitely!_

"I thought not. Look, while I'm gone, why don't you go and stay with Piers? He'd keep you company just as much as I would."

"With respect, beloved, I have no intention of spending my evenings cuddled up to Piers on the sofa, watching films while he feeds me pieces of red papaya from his fruit salad. And somehow I doubt that he would fit as snugly under my chin and within my arms as you do. Not that I have any intention of ever finding out… Besides, he has a lady friend," he complained, frowning distastefully.

"Piers has a lady friend?" she asked shrilly, surprised beyond words. She laughed without meaning to and shooed the image away. It was not that there was anything wrong with Piers – he was devastatingly handsome with his tall, proud stature, his regal features and dark wavy hair – he truly was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. No, he would never be ignored because of his looks, but Christine just could not imagine him with a girlfriend. She didn't know why – it just did not seem very Piers to be attached.

Erik started laughing too. He had also found the idea positively silly. Piers simply did not do lady friends. He was far too sure of himself and stuck-up almost that they all thought he was conceited and he did not notice them for having his nose in the air. But he had somehow found himself a woman who allowed him to find it within himself to be a little less confident and a lot more attentive, and Erik was happy for him. Though the idea was still ridiculous…

When they'd both stopped laughing, Erik sighed regrettably and placed both of his hands comfortably on her shoulders. "I'll miss you," he conceded, bringing her forward so that her forehead rested against his lips. "When you go, you'll be tearing my heart in two. I'll miss you more than I'd miss my hearing. Much so much it already hurts…"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, February 2006


	7. Chapter 7: Parting Pains, Coping Alone

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.

**A/N: **Just a fleeting update… I am not at home. **theangelcried**, this is _your_ doing. And yet, still, that nagging feeling that I've forgotten something…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 7: Parting Pains and Coping Alone…**

_You bloody idiot_, he scolded himself, not for the first time that night. _How could you have let her go just like that? What if something happens to her? Or what if she meets someone over there that she likes more than she likes you? What if he tries to kiss her? You are not there to protect her, you fool, and that is all your own fault. You are not there to make sure that she doesn't waste her first kiss on someone who is entirely undeserving of such an honour._

Christine had left for Florence in the early hours of that morning with Meghan and Ada Giry. They would be gone for two whole weeks and he was absolutely miserable. Not only had he not slept the night before for worrying about her impending departure, but he could also not expect to be able to sleep at all for the next fortnight. Then there was the rest of the day to contend with…

Breakfast had been deplorable. The only reason he was up and about at that time anyway was that he had wanted to be there to see Christine off and then, after they had shared their tearful goodbye and she had left, he was forced to wander about aimlessly in the deafening quiet of his house. He could no longer call it his home for his beloved was not there and he was only at home with her, but he had tried to keep things normal and that meant eating. Unfortunately, however, he had immediately reverted to his old habits of eating little and unhealthily, and he had found with despair that it was the most lonely thing in the world to sit at the breakfast table on his own in the dark of early morning without the brightness of Christine's smile to warm him. He didn't understand how he could ever have been able to do it before.

The drive to work had been just as hard and just as boring without her, and he had driven mindlessly and out of habit before moving through his classes in much the same fashion. Piers, bubbly from a supposedly great dinner the previous evening with his lady friend, had only gotten on his nerves and he had left in the middle of a one-sided conversation as he tried to drown out the rest of the world's apparent happiness.

The evening was even worse as he had nothing to distract himself from her absence and he became even more aware of how big a part of his life she was. Sighing fretfully, he nursed a cold cup of tea as he sat there in the dark, barren study, his eyes concentrated on the phone as he waited impatiently for her to ring. She had said only loosely that she might phone if she got a chance and yet he sat there religiously, staring at it until it finally did ring and he practically pounced on it, lifting the receiver to his ear.

"_Christine_?"

"Mr. Phelps-Jones? I'm calling from–"

"Oh, naff off," he muttered wretchedly, annoyed beyond words that someone would dare call him when he was trying to keep the line open for his angel.

_Christ_, he missed her…

* * *

Elsewhere, Christine missed _him_ just as much as he missed her. She missed his endearing crankiness early in the morning and she missed his grumpy complaining over breakfast. But mostly, she missed his love… She had learnt a few things since she'd left him and the first was that she may love both Meg and her mother but she did not love them the way she loved her Angel and they could never love her the way he did. She also learnt that she didn't like sharing with other women – they were all too similar and she missed her Angel's contrast. After all, she couldn't very well share the same relationship with them that she shared with Erik. She liked feeling protected by him, as though he were always there to care for her and she could not have that with Meg or her mother… nor would she want it with them. She also found that she missed caring for him too. While she loved Florence very much and indeed had always thought it was a very beautiful city, she found herself becoming bored more easily without Erik's immense knowledge to intrigue her or at least his company to soothe her. Truly, she loved the Girys… but she could not focus without her Angel.

"Hey, Chris, what's up with you?" Meg asked, plopping down on one of the beds in their hotel room as Christine continued to stare out the window at everything while seeing nothing. "You've been sulking all day."

"I'm having second thoughts," she confessed after a moment's silence.

"About what?"

"About leaving Erik at home on his own for two weeks…"

"He's a grown man – he can look after himself. He managed perfectly well for thirty odd years before you started doing it for him. Let him try to cope on his own for a while."

"I think I'll call him…"

"And say what? 'You were right, _Angel_, I shouldn't have come'," Meg mimicked her. "We are supposed to be on holiday here!"

"I just miss him, Meg. You don't understand."

"I know," she said softly. "But, Christine, he has been your everything for years… he has been your friend, your father, your protector… even your _boyfriend _at times. You can't let him continue to be everything to you… what if, you meet some man you want to go out with and then he sees the relationship between you and Erik and feels uncomfortable with it?"

"Angel always comes first," Christine stated resolutely. And so he did… she would never side with anyone before she would side with him.

"Yes, that's true," Meg agreed. "But it's about time _you_ did. You need to experience things on your own."

"I'd rather experience them with Erik. And I don't see why I should have to settle."

"So what are you going to do? Call him and ask him to come get you…? And then move into a hotel across the street with him, going to the same places we're going now, looking at the same things we're looking at now but seeing them somehow differently? It's only two weeks, Chris, give it a chance."

Sighing, Christine continued looking out at just the littlest bit of Florence and she conceded. "Of course, you're right, Meg. I'm sure he can manage without me."

* * *

By the second day, he had called in sick… himself surprised both at the brevity of the time he had managed without her and that he had lasted even _that_ long in the first place. So, he had decided to try and get away with as many days off as he could wrangle – and after twenty-five years working at that school without taking all of his allotted time off, they could not begrudge him a few days leave now that he had asked for it. And Erik was glad, for he had no idea how he would have been able to function had he gone into work and not seen her there again – her seat in his class depressingly empty.

It was beyond him how much he loved her. And how much it pained him when she was not there… so much, it made him ill.

He'd never before, since Christine had come into his care, spent a single day at the school when she was not there – even when she was sick, he would take the day off too, staying at home to look after her. And the school had allowed that, for he never missed any days himself otherwise and they understood that it was difficult for single parent families when the child was unable to attend school even if briefly.

_

* * *

Erik was miserable. He'd never experienced such discomfort in his life… he was bedridden with an awful, truly terrible illness he found people quite offhandedly knew as Chickenpox. His poor darling Christine had caught the illness off of one of the less cultured, less mature, **sloppier** young members of the human race she had to, unfortunately, share a class with, and he had, of course, gotten it from close contact with her. He hadn't caught it as a child having had so little contact with other children and, even as he had worked in the school for years before Christine came along, he had never had any contact with children young enough to contract the illness. He was paying for it now, though… but what was worse was that his little angel was sick too and he could not look after her as he well as he would have wished. He was aware that getting Chickenpox at his age was not only rare but also rather dangerous to his health – but that was not what worried him… **she** always came first._

_Wretchedly, he looked up from his absolutely exhausted, slumped position in his bed towards the adjoining door he shared with the beautiful child he lived with. He couldn't help but find himself smiling as the very girl he had been thinking about trailed tiredly into his room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she crawled into the bed beside him. He didn't waste his breath on reprimanding her for moving about while she was ill, nor did he bother to ask what she wanted… he just brought her into his arms and pulled the covers up around them both before settling down next to her in hope of sleep. She gave him such comfort._

"_Angel?" she asked sweetly, her voice clearly showing her exhaustion._

"_Hmm?"_

"_I'm sorry I made you sick…"_

_Erik opened his eyes fully, now completely awake, and looked at Christine with nothing short of amazement. "What do you mean?"_

"_It's my fault that you're sick, Angel. I'm sorry."_

"_**You** didn't make me sick. Oh, sweetheart," he laughed softly, "is that what you think? How could think this was **your** fault? You can't help getting Chickenpox, Christine… I just wish I could take care of you better."_

_She looked up at him innocently, her eyelids droopy from fatigue and she decided not to argue with him, instead repositioning herself upon his chest. "I'm tired, Angel," she stated, though it was obvious._

_Stroking a curl away from her forehead, he moved again so that he was lying flat on his back with her lying chastely on his chest and then he regarded the half-asleep seraph with immense love. "Shh… go to sleep."_

"_You won't leave, will you, Angel?"_

"_How could I ever leave you? You are my heart, sweet child… I would simply cease to be without you."_

_Little did he ever realise how true those words were…_

* * *

"_That's perfect, Angel," teenage Christine called down the stairs, watching as he arranged a particularly large piece of artwork on the wall. "But it'd look better about three feet to your left…"_

"_How," he started, struggling the heavy piece to the ground in his frustration, "how can it be perfect but still look better moved three feet to the left?"_

"_Because it was perfect where you had it, Angel, but it was so **you**… if you move it three feet to the left, it will still be where you wanted it but with my input too," she explained, happily waltzing down the stairs to meet the confused man at the bottom. "You see that?" she asked when he'd placed it where she'd asked, waiting until he acknowledged her with a nod as they both stood side to side, staring at it. "That's us."_

_Erik continued looking at the oil impression of the landscapes of Italy and shook his head briefly to clear it. Then he looked at the young woman next to him and back towards the painting again. "That's us?"_

"_Yes, Angel, that's me and you. Can't you see it?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of the landscape._

"_Of course," he muttered. "We're beautiful, Christine." And he realised that she had been right – it would have looked awful, almost unnoticeably so, but awful, nonetheless, if it had stayed three feet to the right. If it had been just him, it would have looked truly awful, indeed. But, with Christine's influence… they could be beautiful together. Even though he could not, while he was alone._

* * *

Rationally, he could tell himself that he was being stupid… _rationally_, he couldn't understand why he was finding it so hard to cope on his own when he had been managing it for years before she had even come into his life. But it was not something he could easily rationalise and, by now, he had stopped trying… there was no point in trying to understand why he ceased to be, almost, without her when he already knew why that was. She was his life – he'd loved her forever and he'd been in love with her forever. She brightened up every day so easily and she had done everything for him. Christine Daaé was a diamond and he was the luckiest man in the world to have been given the opportunity to spend so much of his time with her and to hold so much of her trust – of her love. It was merely unfortunate then that he was such a bloody idiot that he had taken her for granted…_

* * *

A quiet, frustrated figure unconsciously tapped out a rhythm with his free hand upon the mahogany of the desk he was huddled over, in the midst of a great deal of work. It was somewhat of a routine of his, when he came home at the end of the day to finish his lesson plans and other work before attempting to unwind. Actually, what he should have said was that it was somewhat a routine of **theirs**… His precious angel was very much a part of the routine in question. No, the routine would not be manageable were she not present._

_Christine Daaé understood that her Angel would be in a bad mood because of the load and, therefore, she found the night went one of two ways – either he would stop working for a while to take comfort in her presence, or, he would keep working but insist that she stay nearby so that he could concentrate without having to worry about where she was. Regardless, the night would always start out the same way…_

"_Christine, I need my–"_

"_Here you are," she said happily, placing a large leather-bound date book in front of him at just the right page that he required and at just the right angle that he didn't have to rearrange things. He could be very much like a child in his need to have the things he wanted right there in front of him just as soon as the idea had popped into his mind – but she was happy to humour him if it made life easier. She also found it undeniably endearing, though sometimes it slipped her notice just how dependent of her he was becoming. _

"_Where's my…?" He gestured vaguely in the air with his left hand as he struggled to remember the name of what he was looking for._

"_Yes, Angel, it's in your top right drawer."_

_Indeed what he was looking for was in his top right drawer but how she had even known what he was talking about was beyond him._

"_And I need…"_

"_Here," she said, placing a mug of his favourite tea in front of him. "I brought your biscuits too and I got your coat back from the dry cleaners – it's in your wardrobe… and your slippers are under the desk."_

_Erik pursed his lips and blinked at her as she walked away, wondering just when he had become so dependent upon another person. The day she came into my life, he thought as he started to nibble contemplatively on one of the snacks she had left him._

* * *

His behaviour had become deplorable of late and he could see that now. He had not only allowed her to do everything for him and had taken that for granted, but he had also been neglecting _her_ needs. If she _had_ accepted Raoul de Chagny's request that she be his girlfriend, what right was it of his to have an opinion on that? What right did he have to object to it at all when he had treated her as he had? Surely the boy would treat her better… and she did deserve to be fussed over for her own sake now. That was not to say that he had given up, certainly not, but he had decided that he would do everything he could from now on to turn her to his affections. All he had to do was to wait for her to come home… but that wasn't nearly as easy as it had sounded.

So, it was by the third day, that, having heard nothing from her and worried beyond belief, he nearly leapt into the air when the phone rang.

"Christine?"

"Hello, Angel," she trilled, making him sigh at her beauty and out of relief that she seemed alright.

Then he became upset that she hadn't phoned when she very well could have and he obviously wasn't very high on her list of priorities. Then he thought he was being too harsh on her, after all, he had treated her deplorably before she left. So, he settled for being upset but aware that it was his own fault. "Why haven't you called me before now? I was worried about you. Anything in the world could have happened to you."

"I'm sorry, Angel, I just didn't want to bother you. Look, I have to go soon or we'll end up paying through the nose for using a hotel phone. I just thought I'd let you know I was alright."

"Forget the money," he complained, annoyed that something so trivial – at least to them – was getting in the way of their talking. "I'll settle the bill, don't even worry about it. And, if you need it, you know you have access to our funds, don't you?"

"Angel, I'm fine, really… you worry too much. I just don't think I should run up a large bill on Mrs. Giry's holiday, even if we _are_ going to pay for it ourselves."

"Don't worry about her," he said shortly, annoyed that they were arguing over the price of a telephone call when he had missed not being able to talk to her and see her everyday. "I'll take care of it."

"Look, I'd better go… I'll call you again next week."

_Next week? _That was just as much as he could take. There was absolutely no way he was going to wait a week to hear her again. "_Definitely not!_ Give me the number to your room and I'll call back in a minute."

"I can't, Angel, we're going out now. I'll have to speak to you later."

"Christine, do as you are told, sweetheart. Give me the number and I will call you back."

"Oh, alright, but I can't stay long."

"Mmm," he mumbled, not truly agreeing and then he wrote the number down that she gave him, groaning with impatience as he dialled it and waited to be reconnected to her.

"Angel?"

"Yes, darling. Finally," he sighed dramatically. "We can talk. I miss you."

"I know; I miss you too… how was your day, Angel?"

He wouldn't tell her that he'd spent all day at home, having not been able to face going in. He also wouldn't tell her that he hadn't been eating or sleeping and that he hadn't left the house in two days. "Fine. Listen, darling, I am going to call you everyday, so you needn't worry about the bill, alright?"

"You can't keep calling Italy everyday, Angel."

"I am not a poor man in monetary terms, my child, but I am so very poor in happiness when you are not by my side. I should have treated you better… I have had you for thirteen years and I had begun taking you for granted. I can see that now and it will not happen again, I can promise you that. I love you."

"What are you saying exactly, Angel?"

"I am saying that I am sorry for my behaviour and I am asking you to come home, Christine. I will take you to Florence again, if you would like, later. The two of us… _together_… as it _should_ be."

"I have to go, Angel. Look, I'll think about it." Quickly, she hung up the phone and stared at it. She couldn't continue to talk to him, otherwise she would give in. And she couldn't give in yet… They would be so much closer if she just lasted the two weeks and then went home. Besides, it was not as though she was not having a good time. She was much happier than she had been on the first day and it could only get better, she was sure. It'd be fine…

* * *

By the fourth day, Erik had taken to sleeping – or rather, _resting_,as he could not sleep – in her room instead of his, just so that he had all of her things near him.

"_Christ_, you _reek_!" a surprised voice called, startling him enough to pull himself up in the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Erik asked finally with enough presence of mind to get up completely.

"No… what are _you _doing in _here_?"

"I have every right to be in here," he defended. "This is _my _house!" So why did he feel guilty about getting caught in Christine's room?

"But it's not your room…"

"How did you get in?" he asked instead of continuing a subject he did not wish to get into overly deeply.

"You left the door unlocked."

"Oh?" That surprised him… had he really been so careless? He definitely would not have been had _she_ been home with him at the time.

"Yes, and I expected to find you anywhere but here…"

"Why _are _you here, Piers?"

"Hey, don't get tetchy with _me_! I'm not the one who abandoned you… I just came to see if you were alright as you've been off for _days_. And look what I find! You could really do with a clean-up… have you even seen yourself?"

Finally, turning his head towards the full-length mirror in his Christine's room, he caught a glance of his reflection in her mirror and stared at it in horror. But it was not so much the mask that was bothering him this time as much as everything else was – he looked positively emaciated, his pyjamas hanging off of him, making him look scruffy. The dark rings around his eyes, his ashen complexion and greasy hair were certainly not helping matters any. He definitely needed to clean himself up, he decided. "So I'm not at my best… _so what_? You would not be either if your – what was her name? Nicole? Natasha?"

"Raquel, actually," Piers corrected, un-amused.

"Close enough. You would not be either if your _Raquel_ had left _you_!"

"That's hardly the same… Christine is not your girlfriend and your depression is bordering on the obsessive, Erik. What would she say if she could see you now?"

"She won't see me now and that is the bloody point, Piers. What the hell kind of name is 'Raquel' anyway?"

"Well, that was an unsuccessful subject change if ever I heard one. Why has Christine going on holiday gotten you so agitated?"

"You don't understand the way I feel about her."

"No," he agreed, "and I probably won't until I have a daughter myself."

"She is _not _my daughter."

"Well, no… not _per se_. But I've seen you with her – I know you love her just as much if not more than even if she were your own."

"You'll never understand what I feel for her. But never once – _never once _– have I ever thought of her as my daughter." And with that cryptic statement, he tore his gaze away from Piers wretchedly, walking out of her room to find that the rest of the house seemed to be in just as much of a mess as he was. He had obviously ceased to function without her and he did not like it, and so, he made a sudden decision that he would not continue to suffer as he had been – no, he would actively get her back, himself. But first, he would make sure that she had a clean home and a groomed Angel to come back to. He may be old-fashioned but he had always believed that men should dote upon their spouses dutifully and happily – now, he realised that Christine was not yet his spouse, if she ever would be, but she very much was so in his mind and in his heart – but he wanted to do _everything_ for her. He had always detested men who left their wives or their partners to do all the things around the house while they did nothing but laze around – of course, he could not exactly be called lazy – he had just let other things get in the way of him taking care of her properly… insignificant things really, when they were compared to her happiness – things like his teaching plans and exam marking. Somewhere along the way, it had escaped his notice and he had become like one of those men he truly detested. But not for a moment longer…

Piers joined him downstairs a few minutes later, recovering slowly from his confusion enough to shake it off and try a different tact. "She'll be back soon…" he started, standing behind him. "We can do something to take your mind off of it and the time will go in much faster than all that, you'll see."

"I don't want to take my mind off of her," he replied automatically, staring rather thoughtfully at a pile of rubbish stacked on top of the bin. Had it really only been four days? Suddenly more upbeat, he whirled around to face Piers, and, with an unreadable but intense expression on his face, he quite seriously asked his colleague to leave.

"What?"

"Get out, please. Come on, quickly… I don't have all day. Well, actually I have several days," he finished more to himself. "But that is hardly the point, is it? Out you go, I have to things to get done."

Finding himself being pushed unceremoniously out the door, Piers shook his head and managed one final sentiment before the door was firmly shut – and locked – in his face. "You were lucky to get to know that one, Erik. Nobody else could ever put up with you twenty four hours a day!"

But it fell upon deaf ears, or rather, the ears of a man who had already set his mind on something and the ears of a man who did not have the ability to let things go when he had gotten an idea.

So it was that, when he'd tidied the house to his satisfaction, making sure that all the washing was done and that there was no evidence left that he had not been looking after himself properly, he took a shower, finally getting dressed in a clean dress suit and generally sorting himself out. Then he went out and got some supplies in so that he could make Christine's favourite meal for her when she got home – and she _would_ be coming home… of that he was sure. He would bring her back and then he would take care of her as she had taken care of him for the greatest part of their years together. He was going to do everything for her. He intended to pamper her – to make it so that she was so content she would never even think of leaving him again. He was a man on a mission. And he would never be dissuaded from it… even if the object of this particular mission did not want it.

Then he phoned the airline and booked himself passage on the next flight bound for Florence that night, also reserving himself and his Christine seats to return home the next morning, anticipating her reunion with him. He had wanted them to get a flight home that same night but there was nothing available with them sitting together and he was not about to get her back just to spend a couple of hours apart again.

But he resolved that one night there was not worth worrying about if he were with her… and he _would_ be with her. There was never any other choice.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, April 2006

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	8. Chapter 8: Unexpectedly

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.

**A/N: **My exams are over… hurrah! **Ripper**, I'm emailing you right this second.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 8: Unexpectedly…**

Erik's heart fluttered as the hotel room door opened and a very tired-looking Christine answered, her little fist rubbing her eyes as she used to do as a child and he smiled, so endeared towards her.

Christine, however, when she finally laid her eyes on the unexpected man standing there, had a flurry of emotions running through her… Not least, surprise that he was there at all – her Angel standing before her – and she couldn't understand how he had come to be there. And then she had sufficiently recovered from her shock to realise that he wasn't simply a dream and that he really was there – which led to her becoming angry at him that he'd just turned up without any notice and _expected _her to just drop everything for him. And then she remembered that that was what she had wanted him to do the whole time she'd been away anyway. So, she settled for being mildly annoyed that he'd ruined her plan of being closer to him because of their time apart and completely flattered that he'd not been able to last even six days without her. "Angel," she said at last, a disapproving smile upon her face as she, unable to prevent herself, darted forward into his arms and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

"You missed me?" he asked, sincerely surprised at that as he brought his arms up around her, standing there in the middle of the hallway. He'd expected she'd be too busy to miss him even half as much as he missed her.

"Of course I missed you, you silly man! What did you expect?" At his unsure silence, she leaned back and shook her head, making him smile slightly as her voluminous curls brushed the backs of his hands. "I'd invite you in, Angel, but Meg and her mum are sleeping… Your knocking didn't waken _them_…"

"It seems you are more in tune to me than anyone else ever will be," he said proudly, his immense feelings for her only increasing as he saw her again. And he was unable to think of anything but her welfare… "Are you very tired, sweetheart?"

"Not anymore… not now that you're here."

Her Angel smiled and stroked her cheek affectionately. He thought she was so dear, so very sweet that he was surprised no one else had noticed and tried to win her before he'd realised what a prat he'd been. "Then, if you're feeling up to it, why don't you go back inside and get changed and I'll take you out somewhere…"

"Where?" she asked brightly.

"Now that would be spoiling the surprise… We have all of Florence, my dear – wherever I take you will be magical."

Her eyes flashed with an intensity he hadn't seen since before they'd had their falling-out and he couldn't help feeling a flutter in his heart as she swiftly kissed his cheek before skipping lightly back into the room to change, taking his suitcase inside with her.

Not ten minutes later, she came back out, looking radiant in an evening dress he'd never seen before and a smile he'd give the world to see again. "I left them a note," she started, taking his arm after he'd placed a pashmina delicately around her shoulders, "in case they should wake up and wonder where I've gone."

"Very considerate, sweetheart…" he murmured approvingly as he led her down to the ground floor and out through the quiet lobby. Handing her into a taxi, he made sure she did not hear the destination he told the driver before he took the seat next to her and revelled for just a few moments in the mere presence of his beloved. And finally, he told her he'd missed her.

"Really? I thought you'd be too occupied with work to miss me…"

"My dear, I could never be too anything to miss you were you not with me." He elected not to mention that he hadn't been at work anyway and had, in fact, had nothing to do for days but think and analyse and dissect every little action he had ever taken involving her.

"You braved an airport and a plane and all that hassle just to come get me?"

"I'd brave The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse for you – trust me, airport security was nothing compared to what it has afforded me here."

"You always know what to say…"

"When I'm not putting my foot in my mouth you mean…" At the lowering of her head out of embarrassment, he laughed softly, making her look at him again. "Don't you dare blame yourself… it is _my_ fault we fell out of sorts and _I _am going to fix it. I have not properly apologised for what I did and, if you'll allow me, I'll happily spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

"I forgive you."

Sighing contentedly as she rested against his chest, he smiled the most genuine smile he believed had ever graced his unfortunate features. It was all he had ever wanted.

* * *

"Where are we, Angel?" 

"Shh… let's not tarnish the atmosphere with things that don't matter… Dance with me, Christine."

"But–"

"Dance with me," he repeated firmly, leading her by the hand onto the large mood-lit dance floor of the restaurant they had just entered where many other couples she could see were similarly entwined with one another in a slow, unstructured dance.

In awe of the ambience of the whole place, she was surprised when he pulled her up against him and placed one hand on the small of her back and the other remained clutching her hand in his. And, in her surprise, he immediately led her in the gentle and thoughtful movements that made up their dance together. "You are so beautiful," he commented, managing to make it sound offhanded, when it really could not have been less so.

It was with much curiosity that she looked around at the other couples dancing and, more often than not, found that both of the woman's hands would be around the man's neck and her head would be on his chest. Then, it was without prompting that Erik revealed quite easily that he felt holding hands and looking into each other's eyes was far more romantic and she was left to wonder exactly what that had meant.

With the clarity – if somewhat brief – that had been afforded to her since having spent the last several days without him, she was starting to see things… little things that she might not have noticed before and certainly would not have acknowledged – things that were becoming blaringly obvious to her now that she had been granted perspective. The way he said things to her and the way he touched her – they were starting to strike her as slightly odd and her mind became preoccupied at why this was suddenly affecting her when it had never done so before. His jealousy at Raoul and the man in the restaurant who'd bought her a drink… the way he did things like this with her… Surely, she thought, no other man with wholly honourable intentions would take his foster daughter out dancing like this and tell her, not in so many words, that he'd rather be more romantic with her, would they? Surely not, no. But here they were… and, for the life of her, she could not pretend she was not having the most wonderful time she had since she'd been there. The grand gestures… the unswerving love he laid down at her feet… was it all just platonic? Did she want it to be?

With a heavy heart she looked up at the tender expression in his eyes and forced herself to smile, if even just a little so that he might be happy even if her mind was elsewhere. It was not long, though, before the smile became genuine and her tired mind rid all thoughts of anything other than the evening they were sharing.

"You haven't exactly had the most orthodox life, Christine, have you?" Erik said with unexpected melancholy.

"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised by the sudden topic of conversation. Up until then, they had talked little and only of what they had done without the other and every single little thing that they'd missed about them, but, it was with a marked sadness that Erik began this new topic.

"Living with me… Growing up with a man who, himself, had so little clue of what it was like to be a child… I never had a childhood, Christine."

"Are we not making up for that now, Angel?"

"Oh, Christine, you have more than made up for it in _every_ way, my beautiful girl. I would have led such a barren existence if you had not come into my life as you did… if our lives had not fitted together so perfectly, I would be a truly bitter man, indeed. I feel as though your childhood was mine too… I have never had so much fun in my life. And I promise – I _promise _– to take better care of you from now on… I should never have treated you as such and I'll never regret anything more. I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd lost you… I'd never have forgiven myself for not treating you like the seraph you are."

"Don't fret so, Angel. You haven't lost me… and you needn't go out of your way to pamper me – well," she paused, changing her mind slightly, "perhaps just for a little while. But I'd be happy just for us to share the responsibilities a bit more equally from now on."

"I shall do more than that for you, my dear. I promise you will be the most cared for of woman from now on."

Pouting, Christine leaned back more to look at him properly and wrinkled her nose. "I don't need to be taken care of," she protested.

"I did not mean it like that."

"Then what _did_ you mean it like?"

"I merely meant that it is about time _I _spoiled _you_ for a change."

"I have no intention of becoming _kept_, Erik."

"Of course not. Do not get upset with me, Christine… I'm not trying to offend you. I know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself – you have proven it time and again – but you don't _have _to anymore. I have been a fool to neglect you as I have… that is all going to change now. I'm going to do everything for you."

"I don't _want_ you to do everything for me."

"Let us not argue, Christine… you have only just come back to me." "I missed you," he admitted.

"Oh, Angel," Christine smiled, choosing to forget what she had been upset about as she moved back into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "I missed you too."

"Tell me," he started after a time just standing in rest together. "Are you enjoying Florence?"

"It is beautiful… but it wasn't the same."

"How so?"

"I find I do not like so much sharing with other women…"

He looked down at her strangely and frowned. "Really?" he asked, surprised. "I find sharing with you the most wonderful of experiences."

"Well, let us just say that, at the very least, I can relate to your pain now, Angel."

"What's that?"

"If I were to trip over another pair of Meg's shoes, I think I'd go mad."

"Well, we can't have that, can we? You shall have no such trouble with me… though, I will admit, I missed not finding myself assaulted with such relics of your presence on a daily basis while you were away."

"I'm so happy to be going home again, Angel." She sighed and stretched, removing herself from his arms as she stood up.

"We are so stupid…" she commented after they'd spent a great deal of time in a comfortable silence.

"What do you mean?" he asked as he started them moving again.

"We couldn't even last six days apart," she laughed, shaking her head as she happily danced in his arms.

"I'm surprised I lasted _that_ long," he agreed, stroking her back.

"But we should really talk about this, Angel…"

"About what?" He was confused and he did not like being so unsure of himself, especially around she who mattered the most.

"You got on a plane and came all this way because you couldn't last a week without me… don't you think that means something?"

"Of course it does – it shows you how much I love you…"

"Yes, that it does – but doesn't it seem odd to you that most foster parents wouldn't come this far just to see their foster child if she were only on holiday in the first place?"

"We are closer than other people, Christine. Why is this bothering you? Didn't you want me to come? I can leave again if my company is making you feel ill…" he offered sarcastically, his grip upon her tightening. "Don't play games with me, Christine. I could not bear it."

"Angel, don't be upset with me… I'm not playing games and your presence is certainly not bothering me – I was rather _flattered_ when you just showed up like that…" she admitted, the blush colouring her cheeks as she lowered her gaze embarrassedly only further proving what she had said.

Erik smiled and kissed her forehead as she was still looking down. "Dance with me, Christine," he commanded again. And she did…

She danced with him until she'd almost fallen asleep, not long after she'd become so contentedly tired that he had allowed her to drop her arms to around his waist and her head to his shoulder as they gradually started to slow their dancing more to gentle swaying as he held her. And finally, regrettably, he led her back out of the restaurant and towards the hotel.

She was already asleep when they'd gotten back and he'd let himself into her hotel room, lifting her easily into his arms as he laid her in the made up sofa bed, a little miffed that she had been relegated to that thing when he would have made sure she got only the best. And he removed only their shoes, unable to bring himself to change her, especially when they were not alone.

And so, ignoring the second bed that the sofa folded out into, he slid in happily beside her, glad that she had enjoyed herself.

* * *

A yawning Meg Giry sat up in her hotel bed, awakened by the streaming sunlight coming in from the window, and she stretched, slipping out of her bed to face the other two beds in the room – the other single containing the sleeping form of her mother, and the sofa bed by the window surprisingly containing not one – but _two _people. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to see if she were dreaming or not, but the figures were still there… Moving closer to get a better look, she stared disbelievingly at the unmistakable forms of Christine in an evening dress and Christine's temperamental guardian in a dress suit, both in the top part of the sofa bed, even though it pulled out into two separate beds. 

Waking her mother with a slight nudge, she pulled the surprised women over the sofa bed at the window and they stared as the sunlight danced across the oblivious couple lying there. "What's he doing here?" she whispered.

"Oh, I should have known better," Ada complained.

"What do you mean? How could you have known that he'd follow us here like this and just turn up out of the blue?"

"That's not what I meant… I meant, I should have know better thirteen years ago when I gave her up to him. I should have seen that it would turn out this way… Erik has always been rather… _possessive_. It would have done her the world of good if I'd just kept her – she could concentrate on herself instead of worrying about _him_ then."

"_You_ couldn't have prevented this – seems to me that he would have been this way whatever you'd done… I'm glad you let her live with him – if you hadn't, I think he would have run off somewhere with her and then where would we be? I don't want to lose Christine to him…"

Ada Giry didn't say anything, unwilling to point out to her daughter that it was likely that she was already lost. Truly, she believed, if it ever came down to it, that even Christine would, in the end, pick her _Angel_ over her best friend. It was Erik's fault, she was sure – his fault that he'd made them both so dependent on one another. But the damage had already been done… and there was to be no going back for any of them. They'd just have to try to limit the way it was affecting their lives…

"What should we do?" Meg asked, then, her face clearly showing her disapproval.

"No point in waking them… he'll just want to have her to himself anyway. Let's go down for breakfast and, with any luck, we'll miss them when they go down."

"How can you say that? We have to be here for Christine."

"I know you feel that way, Meg – but she wouldn't thank you for it. This conversation is best left until each of us is firmly standing on home ground. We cannot try to make them see reason here…"

Acquiescing reluctantly, Meg went to get dressed in the bathroom before heading downstairs for breakfast. She would leave the pair of them alone as her mother had suggested – but she'd make sure _everyone_ knew that she wasn't bloody happy about it.

* * *

"I'm a mess," Christine complained, sitting up in the bed she and Erik were sharing, both only recently wakened. They had danced so late into the night that they were similarly exhausted and contented, dwelling happily, if regretfully, in the previous evening's happenings. "Mascara everywhere…" she moaned, looking at the once-white pillow they'd been sharing and the wrinkles in her dress. 

Erik, however, had wakened in an unusually exceptional mood. "Come here," her Angel commanded brightly, smiling at her concern for her appearance around him when he'd never seen her happier or more beautiful. And he pulled his soft handkerchief out of his breast pocket, running it delicately under her eyes as he held the back of her head in his other hand until the last remnants of her mascara from the night before were gone.

"How could you have let me go to bed without taking it off?"

"How was I to know that this is what happens when you don't?"

"You just should."

"My utmost apologies then, darling," he laughed.

His unclouded happiness was cut short, however, when the two other inhabitants of the room came back from their breakfast, up until that point, completely forgotten. Each of them shared a telling a look and then Meg and her mother pointedly didn't say anything – their faces telling the whole story by themselves – and started flicking through the channels on the television.

"I think I'll go take a shower," Erik said softly in her ear, the mood now completely ruined as far as he was concerned.

_Don't you **dare** leave me to face them on my own, Erik Phelps-Jones. I'll have your head for this!_ "Do you have to go now?"

"If you want my personal hygiene to be more advanced than that of an ape then perhaps I should, darling, yes."

She sighed and nodded. "Leave the door unlocked, Angel."

He looked at her, perplexed beyond belief, sure there was just something he was missing.

"Don't look at me like that," she scolded, mock-slapping him on the shoulder. "There is a shower _and _a bath… and both curtains are opaque. I'll give you ten minutes to make sure you're in and then I'll have a bath, alright? It'll save time… _and_ _embarrassment_," she whispered, nodding backwards at the cold stares she could almost feel on her back.

"On what front exactly will it save embarrassment? What if come out and you're…?"

"Oh, don't even go there – I'll make sure you're out before I even think of coming out myself. Besides… you don't take half as long as I do."

"Alright," he agreed, kissing her cheek and disentangling himself from her as he slid his leg out from under hers and got up off of the bed, ignoring the stares he could feel on his side as he retrieved a towel and a change of clothes before heading into the bathroom.

So Christine was left alone to face their disapproving glances for the next ten minutes. Quietly, she sighed to herself and got it over with, turning to look at them both. Honestly, the way they were looking at her, it was as though she'd invited some strange man back to their hotel room in the middle of the night for something other than just dancing… It was not as though none of them knew Erik… and what would they have her do? Send him off somewhere else when there was plenty of room here? Still, she did feel rather uncomfortable, sitting there in her dress from the night before, her face only slightly less messy than when she'd wakened up and a lot more shameful. So she busied herself with picking out a change of clothes and everything she would need for her bath. Then, making sure that the ten minutes was more than up, she warily entered the bathroom, finding, with a sigh of relief, that her Angel was already in the shower and she could not see him so much as hear him.

Smiling, she set her things down next to his and turned around to find that he had very sweetly already drawn her a bubble bath. So she made short work of folding her dress and slipped inside the bath, relaxing into the hot water as she listened to her Angel sing in the shower. She was well aware that he'd known the second she'd stepped into the room and she listened happily as he changed the song to something sweeter, something with a melody she would be humming for days that he was singing just for her. He could make her so happy, her Angel, even as he confused the very sense out of her at times.

Deciding rather easily that she would rather relax than dissect every single thing that had ever passed between the two of them, she settled down in the water, the bubbles covering everything from just below her shoulders down.

Ten minutes later, Erik finished his shower and stepped out onto the bathmat so that he could get dried and dressed. He was a little uncomfortable at being undressed with only a thin, filmy curtain between himself and Christine, but he decided that he would no more like to be caught naked than she would and, therefore, he could quite reasonably conclude that she would not open the curtain until he had gone. Turning away from the bath, he smiled at the message she'd left him in the condensation on the mirror and started to get dressed with a silly smile upon his face and happiness in his heart that he had longed for. It was a habit of hers that he particularly liked.

Deciding to break the now only slightly tense atmosphere, he started talking to her, hoping she would not find it uncomfortable, given the circumstances. "Why did they relegate you to the sofa bed, my dear? I hardly think it's fair."

"_You_ hardly think it's fair because _you _found _yourself_ sleeping in one…"

"No, _I _hardly think it's fair because I found _you_ sleeping in one," he countered.

"I prefer them, Angel. You _know _that."

"I still don't think it's fair – you are the guest."

"Well, currently the guest isn't in very much favour with the rest of the party because _the_ _guest_ has brought along a guest of her own."

"Touché…"

* * *

"What do you think they're doing in there?" 

"There's no point in guessing, Meg – we'll only be wrong. He's probably doing something unaccountably weird, like brushing her hair… or cutting her nails."

"It's like they're one person… it's sickening."

"Well, this is what you would have had to have put up with if I had had her live with us…"

"What do you mean? Surely they could not be this bad… you wouldn't have allowed it."

"What makes you think I could ever _stop_ him? If he wanted to be with Christine – which he has most certainly proven by his persistence over the years – then he would be with her no matter what and no matter _where_ she lived."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Meg asked, dismayed that her mother was being so passive about this when her best friend and her best friend's foster father were in the bathroom together, doing Lord knows what.

"What can we, mere mortals, do about it if it does?"

Meg would think of something…

* * *

"Are you dressed yet, Angel?" 

"Yes, sweetheart – would you like me to leave now?"

"No, Angel, come over here and talk to me."

As he made to do so, she pulled the bath curtain open so that they could see each other. "What are you doing?" Erik asked, surprised, turning his back upon her in case she hadn't meant to do that and would be embarrassed.

"Turn back around, Angel. I'm covered in bubbles… I just want to see you while I talk to you," she explained.

Nervously, he did so and was relieved to find that she was, indeed, covered where it mattered. "What shall we talk about?" he asked then, crouching down next to the bath so that they were nearer.

"First of all, tell me when we're going home…"

"I have us reserved on a flight later this morning. We have time for breakfast and packing and then we'll have to go to the airport if we mean to catch it."

"Good, I'll be glad to be home at last."

"You're sure? You're not upset that I'm cutting your holiday short by several days?"

"Not in the slightest. How are Piers and his lady friend getting along?" she asked, aware that her Angel would know all of the relevant gossip.

"He's meeting her parents this week apparently. Well, actually he's meeting her father and her step-mother… but that amounts to about the same thing, doesn't it?"

"Wow, that's serious… but isn't he a bit old to be doing the whole meet-the-parents thing?"

"He would have to meet them eventually, love… best not left until the wedding day."

"So you think they'll get married?"

"This is the longest he has ever proceeded with anyone… that certainly means something."

"What will I do when I get married?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have no parents for my prospective husband to meet…"

Had Erik not loved Christine in the way that he did, he would have been offended – or, at least slightly miffed – that she had not considered him enough for her future groom to meet. However, as it was, he was offended for an entirely different reason – that she did not think he would be the husband in question. He didn't know how to offer her comfort for that when he little knew how to comfort himself, so he said nothing and merely played with the hand she was resting on the edge of the bathtub in thought.

"What's upset you, Angel?"

"I'm not upset."

"I know you better than all that."

"I'm not upset."

"I didn't believe you the first time you said it. What's wrong?"

"When you think of your future husband, Christine… what does he look like?"

"Well, I can't imagine what he'd look like, so I… I sort of imagine him looking like my closest male friend," she admitted, embarrassed.

"De Chagny," Erik sighed, "I understand." He stood up to leave.

"Raoul's not my closest male friend, Erik. And I could certainly never imagine marrying him…"

"Who _is_ your closest friend then?" The look she had in her eyes unnerved Erik and made him more self-assured than he'd ever been in his life, both at the same time. "What are you saying?" She remained silent and he could feel beads of nervous sweat start to break out on his forehead. "Tell me, Christine," he commanded desperately, "No games."

"I'm not playing a game, Erik… I'm afraid."

"Of me?"

"I'm afraid of getting hurt… of telling you what I feel and finding that you don't feel the same way."

"I'm afraid too… and I'm afraid of losing you. One of us _has_ to tell the other first…" Kneeling back down next to her, he took her hand again. "Christine," he started, unsure, "if you were to marry someone else… we would not be able to go on as we are. Many of the things we do are usually reserved for that of couples… like the dancing, and sharing the sofa bed, and being as close and open with each other as we are… If you married someone else, we would lose all that… do you understand what I'm saying?"

* * *

"_Do you, Christine Daaé, take Erik Phelps-Jones as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"_

"_I do," she trilled merrily, her face alight with the brightest smile he'd ever seen._

"_I now pronounce you man and wife… you may kiss the bride." _

_Erik smiled delightedly and leaned down to her height, depositing a chaste, brief kiss upon her lips. "I love you," he whispered in her ear and then grabbed the young girl, lifting her four feet off the ground so that she might be level with him. _

_Christine was going through a dress-up phase at the minute, wanting to be a ballerina one minute and a bride the next… he been so happy to oblige her on every occasion. And he walked back into their kitchen with her from the patio – she'd wanted to be a summer bride she'd said… wearing white and standing in the sun._

"_Are we married now, Angel?" she asked innocently._

_And he nodded, unable to tell her that on this particular occasion, it was just make-believe. It was a guilty pleasure… but one that he could not deny himself. "Yes, child, we're married…"_

_As far as **he** was concerned… they **were**._

* * *

"I don't know, Angel… If I married someone else…?" 

"We couldn't live together anymore if you married someone else." They had already married in soul, he believed… his Christine, his wife on so many levels… If she married someone else it would be bigamy, he believed, and it would be adultery and he would be forced to kill the other man before he'd let her go through with it. He had married her already, he thought adamantly, and no other man would have claim over _his_ wife.

"I want to get married some day, Angel – I want to have children and a family and…"

"If you want all that then you can't have _me_, Christine. Unless…"

"Unless…?"

"Christine…" he whispered, placing a hand on either side of her neck as he brought her closer, until she mimicked his gesture. "Christine… it's _us_… or it's you and _someone else_ and me on my own."

"So… so, you…" she whispered back, breathlessly and nonsensically as they stared at each other. "You…"

"_Yes_." He leaned forward slowly, the tips of their noses touching, and spent several moments just staring at her lips so that she would have no misunderstandings over his intentions. His breath deliciously tickling her nose, she almost purred and leaned in as he kissed her for only the second time ever on the lips. "I don't ever want there to be anyone but us…"

"Erik… I don't under–"

"Shush." He was trying to make up for all of the kisses he had ever missed out on and tried his hardest to be good for her though he had little idea what she would like. He was unaccountably glad she was his partner in every single kiss he had ever had in his life – but there was an awful feeling in him that he could have been better for her. So he pressed on regardless of his misgivings and pressed another kiss to her lips, his thoughts fleeing his mind in favour of the senses she provoked with her touch. God, he loved her.

"Erik–" she tried to get him to listen, unsure if they should rush so head-long into something so complicated. Her common sense just would not shut up – it told her she was kissing her foster-father – it told her she was kissing her teacher… it told her he had to be the best bloody kisser on the planet from the way he was making her feel.

Pushing back on his shoulders, intent to make him listen to her and take their situation seriously. She so wanted to continue kissing him – but not if it meant finding out later that they'd had their wires crossed all along. "Tell me," she begged, breathless from him.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me… I need to hear you say it. Unless… what?"

"Forsaking all others," he started ambiguously, no little bit breathless himself. "That's a marriage vow, isn't it, Christine? Yes, I thought so… forsaking all others until death parts us. But we'll never be parted, will we, Christine? Not even by death…"

"No?" she asked curiously.

"No. We can never be parted. I have forsaken all others for _you_, my Christine. If you marry someone else, you will be forsaking _me_… but…"

"Yes?"

"If you and I forsook all others together… then we could never be parted."

"What are you saying? Say the words, Angel… I need to hear them."

"Is it not obvious, my dear? I am reciting you wedding vows… I take you, my beloved and my best friend, my chosen one, through all of our lives together." Removing his hand from hers, he slid his ring off of the smallest finger on his hand and onto her ring finger. "I give you this ring, which is bound to my heart. Wear it always, as a symbol of my love."

She knew this was not an official – or even real – wedding ceremony as they were quite obviously sitting in a bathroom, and yet, she started to cry quietly. Him – the man whom she had loved unknowingly for so long – he was offering her a chance to never be parted from him again when spending even six days apart had been hell. She could never refuse him…

But there was another side to married life that she was not sure she'd be entirely comfortable sharing with him – the physical side… Of course, they were already very physical in their affection for one another – but that was only very physical in so far as guardian and child went, not married couple…

Yet, as he kneeled in front of her, waiting expectantly, sharing small, innocent kisses with her, she was not sure that it could be all that bad with him. He had always been gentle with her and he knew precisely every single one of her pet-hates and habits… but was that just settling for the safe option? Could her Angel _ever_ be called the safe option?

Abruptly – unthinkingly – she shot up onto her feet in the bath, completely forgetting her lack of clothes and only mildly retaining her modesty because of a few strategically placed bubbles.

"Christine," Erik gasped, "Christine, you're beautiful."

She tilted her head towards him as he stood and clasped her hands between them, wondering quietly what he was talking about and she was surprised only slightly as he started to kiss her again. Pulling back to look at her, a slight movement caught his eye and he noticed a small bead of water starting to run down her neck, begging him to follow it with his mouth, but he became distracted by her staring at her hand.

"It's a promise, Christine," he explained. "It doesn't have to mean anything on your part… but, with my ring, I promise – I _vow_ – there will never be anyone else for me…"

She, starting to realise that she was naked, pulled a towel quickly around herself and got out onto the mat.

"Christine?" he asked desperately. He could not understand what she was doing and he was scared, though he couldn't explain it.

"Erik, I can't do this…"

"What's wrong?"

"You're… and I… and I can't… I can't do this, Erik. Forget it ever happened."

Devastated, he picked up his things in a hurry, surprised he could even remember about them when he felt the overwhelming pain in his chest, uncaring that the whole front of his suit was wet from her, and tried not to drop his broken heart on the way out.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, June 2006

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	9. Chapter 9: Two Proposals

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.

**A/N: **All my reviewers, I owe you my thanks. When people ask me to update something in particular, I find that I do… so this is for everyone who wanted _The Light of His Life_ updated next. Enjoy!

Please read and review…

**Chapter 9: Two Proposals, a Burial, and an Almost-Wedding…**

Christine was scared to go back out there… she'd just rejected him. No, worse… she'd just spent at least ten minutes discussing some weird form of marriage between them while kissing him rather intimately and then she twisted his poor heart in front of him and rejected him. She was beyond cruel…

And now she was dressed and ready to leave, but she was scared to walk back out into the hotel room and find him wailing his poor heart out, or smashing things… or not there at all. But she could hardly do any good standing in a bathroom all day, could she? And Meg would wonder what was up…

Oh, Meg… what would she tell her? She couldn't very well go out there and tell her and Mrs. Giry that Erik had just proposed to her in the bathroom, could she? Oh, goodness, no – never. She wouldn't betray Erik in such a way – she would never humiliate him like that.

Squashing her stupid pride, she bit back a sob of frustration and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the harsh cool of the air.

"Well, thank goodness for that," Meg mumbled, "we thought you'd died in there. But don't mind me – I've only been waiting an hour to use the bloody loo…"

She jumped slightly at the sound of Meg slamming the door behind her and tried to make better use of her senses when she noticed her masked Angel sitting on the made-up sofa bed by the window. His hands were resting lightly on his knees and he was not looking at anything in particular – though he looked up at her when she came to stand directly in front of him. "Erik."

"I'm going to reception to look at the brochures…" Ada announced. "Meg will catch me up… We'll be back in ten minutes."

Nodding, Christine turned back to face her heartbroken Angel. He was ever-so-beautiful, she thought, with his expressive and longing blue eyes and his lips, which she'd so enjoyed kissing just a few moments ago. "Beautiful Angel…" she said as she stroked her palm across his jaw.

"Don't, Christine," he muttered dejectedly, looking away from her in despair, though he could not prevent himself from hugging her hand to his face. "I can't bear this."

Vaguely, they heard the sound of Meg disappearing out of the door after her mother and Christine leaned down in front of him, showing him with great leisure what she wanted. And finally, she did kiss him again, revelling even as he fought with himself not to allow her to use him like this. A stray tear broke free and ran slowly down along his cheek from his closed eye. It only spoke the pain he was feeling even as he experienced the joy of kissing her. "Christine…" he sobbed, breaking down upon her shoulder.

And she held him… held him until he had completely cried himself out and then she kissed him again, her common sense be damned. And she kept kissing him until he responded to her kisses in like. It was beyond her how she'd rejected him one moment and had the audacity to start kissing him again the next. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him right now…

Sitting on his lap, brazenly, on the sofa bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and continued in her quest to make him more breathless than if he'd run a hundred marathons in the last hour. "Harder."

"What?" he asked, confused beyond belief, having been concentrating on nothing besides those lips she was assaulting him with.

"Harder," she commanded again.

He complied as well as he could and somewhere his subconscious started a list, for him to be able to check back with, of what she liked in the way of kisses. And then he found himself becoming a tangle of limbs with her in a way that was not quite what he had wanted… she was desperately crawling over him in an effort to extricate herself from him before Ada and Meg, whom she could hear unlocking the door, saw them in that compromising position.

Unsure whether she'd succeeded or not, Christine leaned back against the wall, Erik sitting about three feet away from her, both of them looking a little ruffled. Meg looked puzzled at the unusual distance between the two of them and shook her head, sitting down upon her own bed. She couldn't be bothered trying to figure out those two – they were _far_ too strange when they were together.

Eventually, the wet area on her back where her hair had soaked through became too annoying for Christine and she was just about to get up to take care of it when Erik spoke to her.

"Come here, let me help you." He pulled her back to sit on the edge of the sofa between his knees and picked up her discarded towel to gently dry her hair for her. And, oh, he had always loved her hair…

* * *

'_Heavenly' could not even begin to describe how it felt as this seventeen-year-old piece of perfection hung all over him. It was not that he had any improper thoughts about her in this instance, no, but merely that the situation they were in was making him feel very peaceful… the way he imagined that a man might feel with his wife of forty-odd years – still hopelessly in love but also so connected to each other that the mere presence of her beside him made everything seem more beautiful. He could only be too glad that he had already found that with his beloved, though she was obviously unaware of such thoughts as she hugged her arm more tightly around his shoulders._

"_You're awfully quiet, Angel…"_

"_Am I?" he smiled as serenely as he could at her, suddenly feeling very tired. _

"_I haven't worn you out, have I?" she laughed, rearranging herself on his knee. _

_Honestly, Erik wasn't so sure that she hadn't… though, perhaps she'd worn him out in a way she was not aware of. The peace she offered him was, after all, making him sleepy, and really was nothing to do with their afternoon activity. He had always prided himself on being able to keep up with her no matter what strange or tiring thing she decided to drag him into… but it was another thing swimming with her. It was far, far too calming for him…_

_She was perched on his knee in the shallow end, using him as a make-shift chair as she rested from her recent flurry of activity and he couldn't help but become distracted with her hair – it wrapped around him like the finest of gossamer… coiling around his waist, sweeping across his shoulder… tickling his chest. He loved it… It was the most tender thing in the world, being wrapped up in the soft comfort of his love's hair. He couldn't exactly explain it, but he found it to be very intimate…_

"_I would hardly call it being worn out, what **you** do to me… though, I **am** tired, now that you mention it, my dear."_

"_Would you like to go inside, Angel? We could get dried off, then I'll make you some tea and you can lie down… perhaps we could even lie on the sofa together in front of the fire," she smiled encouragingly at him and then slipped off of his knee, finding it was actually getting quite cold anyway. _

"_I love it, sweetheart. What a wonderful idea!" And he was just out of the pool, going to retrieve Christine's towel for her so that she wouldn't get too cold between getting out of the pool and having it on, when he found himself accosted with the presence of someone so very unwelcome._

"_Christine…"_

"_Oh, hello, Raoul," Christine smiled sweetly, waving to him from where she treaded the water, keeping her shoulders beneath within its comforting warmth._

"_I knocked but there was no answer and then I thought you might be round the back on such a great day…"_

"_Mmm," she agreed. "Angel thought we might enjoy a nice, relaxing swim… now he's so relaxed, he's tired." She laughed genuinely at his dearness and was just about to exit the pool when Erik placed a firm hand on her shoulder, refusing to allow her to get out in her swimsuit in front of that **boy**._

"_Well, if **you're **__not tired, why don't I join you and he can go inside…"_

_Erik's hand twitched violently in the towel he was holding and he was just about ready to throttle the boy. No way in hell was he going to allow Raoul to get into that pool with Christine, to see her just in her swimsuit or to even think about getting into the position they had just vacated! No one else could have her hair! It was **his**! And so was she… all of her – from that hair down to her perfect little toes. He'd die before he'd ever allow another to touch her or see her. And he'd do more than that before he would give up lying on the sofa in front of the fire with her._

"_Thanks, Raoul, but I'm all wrinkly anyway and I'm getting cold…"_

_Silently Erik made a mental note to take Christine somewhere lavish for being just **so **__lovely and turning the boy down. And then he successfully followed through a complicated manoeuvre of getting Christine out of the pool without being seen, much to Raoul's dismay. _

_Erik now had no intention of going to sleep and instead decided he would spend the next hour slowly and gently drying his love's hair while they sat together. _

_What could he say…? It had become somewhat of a habit since then…_

* * *

Having finished drying the back of her hair enough so that it was no longer soaked through, he turned her around to face him so that he could dry the front and the sides of her hair without getting the towel in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeing the strange look she was giving him. 

She shook her head and lowered her gaze to his shoulders while he continued. She didn't know what to do now that she was having second, or was it third, thoughts about kissing him. But she had no right because she'd seemingly led him on not once now – but twice. So seeing the look of tenderness in his eyes, she felt guilty and frowned. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asked softly, not really paying attention with the whole of his consciousness as he continued to dry her hair.

"For kissing you like that…" she whispered to him, so that the other occupants of the room would not hear her.

"I thought you kissed very well actually," he commented matter-of-factly, also in a hushed voice. "You were perfect."

She blushed and shook her head. "Thank you… but that's not what I meant. I meant that I shouldn't have kissed you at all."

"Was I not very good, Christine?" He was terrified that she would tell him that they'd been so right for each other until she'd experienced his kisses… that he'd just not been good enough. But then, why would she seek him out from the bathroom just to kiss with him unless he was passable? "You were very responsive," he commented, trying to convince _himself_ that he had not totally blown his chances with her because he couldn't kiss well.

She blushed even redder at that and shook her head again. "Angel, I've never tasted anything sweeter than you," she replied honestly and a shiver of delicious pleasure ran through Erik. "But I still shouldn't have kissed you… We… our relationship… it's complicated."

"I know that it is complicated and that it confuses you… but I cannot help my feelings for you. If I'd let you go back with Mrs. Giry, do you think this would be easier for you? Because I think you would believe me a strange old acquaintance of your guardian's, who was coming on to you too strongly…"

"I admit, I would be wary of you if I didn't know you the way that I do… but it is _because_ of how we know each other that this is so strange."

"When we were kissing, did you find it repulsive?"

She blinked, taking a moment to truly think it through… and she could never have called it repulsive – never – for he was better than she could ever have dreamt. "The opposite, Angel…"

"Then what's wrong with it? Tell me and I'll fix it…"

"You're my teacher," she sighed, wishing that that had been their only problem.

"I'll resign." He was ready to do anything if it meant they could be a couple… and while he would miss her terribly during the day, he knew it wouldn't be for long, and it would all be worth it if they could come home and be together as they should.

But Christine would never let him do that. She wouldn't let him give up his whole career for a love-affair with his charge. And she'd miss him too much for that anyway… "You're my foster father," she tried next, to show him how unlikely it was for them.

"That will terminate when you turn eighteen in a few months…"

A little shocked at him having an answer for everything so quickly, she hit his chest not hard enough to hurt him, and moved a bit further away from him in her anger. "Did you _plan_ for this?" she asked incredulously.

"For what?" Erik was confused… what had he said now that had offended her so?

"Did you plan for us to be together when you first fostered me? You seem to have covered every eventuality…"

He shook his head and took hold of her hand. "Not consciously… but I _have _always loved you."

Christine bowed her head and tried to think of a way to tell him how she was feeling without hurting him too greatly. "I think… I think that, until we… until we've sorted things out and I've finished school – until I can think things through… I don't think we should do anything more intimate than we usually do…"

He was devastated more than he could say, and he could feel the lump slowly raising itself in his throat, but he loved her too much to argue. "I… I will honour your wishes, my love."

"Shall we go to breakfast now? Give Meg and her mother a break…"

"Happily…"

"We're going for breakfast now," Christine called, slipping her coat on as Erik helped her, leaving quickly.

Shaking her head, Meg thanked goodness that she didn't have to watch her best friend be fawned over by her guardian, though she still would rather her friend not be out of her sight with that man. Truly she did not trust Erik Phelps-Jones. Ada, meanwhile, was a bit disappointed by the imminent leaving of her daughter's best friend – she had always thought of Christine as a daughter as well, however estranged, and she also did not look forward to being alone with Meg for the rest of the holiday. Meg would be sulking and annoyed that she was now on holiday just with her mother… but what could she do? So, walking into the bathroom to see if there was anything in there to explain Erik and Christine's _stranger_ behaviour in the last few minutes, she noticed the message Christine had obviously written on the mirror. Though faded, it was still legible and she found herself smiling despite it all. That was not to say she understood a word of it… Christine and Erik _had_ always had their very own private jokes and statements that would mean nothing to anyone else but would make the pair of them blush to matching shades of mauve.

"_You said forever wasn't long enough…"_

_

* * *

Sobbing, Young Christine ran straight into the comforting arms of her Angel, who was waiting for her in the teachers' car park and rather surprised to find the girl barrelling herself into his chest in tears. "What's wrong?" he asked instinctively, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could without making her uncomfortable. _

_He leaned back against the car, holding her as she cried and then he peeled her back from his chest to wipe the drying tears from her cheeks. "Tell me."_

"_They said no one would ever want to marry me…"_

_Surprising her completely, he dropped to bended knee right in the middle of the car park without needing to stop and think about it. "Christine Daaé… you've lit up my life… you are the very love of my life," he said truthfully, holding her left hand delicately in both of his. "I am filled with happiness the second you come into view and I am desolate when I do not have you near. Christine Daaé… will you marry me?"_

"_Yes, Angel," she said after a pause in which she studied the dear man who would do so much and go so far to make her happy._

_He stood up slowly and kept hold of her hand, uncaring that a few teachers had stopped to watch as they got into their cars. "See… you had someone propose to you long before any of those girls will ever have someone propose – if ever." Then he leaned over her and kissed her cheek close to her ear, pausing to whisper to her, "You forget we are already married."_

"_What?"_

"_It was a few years ago… you don't remember, I see. You were a summer bride… it was on the patio… **you** actually asked **me** to marry you… I can honestly tell you, I've never been happier… we wed, Christine, and you don't remember… but at least you know those girls were very wrong."_

"_I'm sorry, Angel… I **do** remember, truly I do. It just slipped my mind – I have not thought about it in a while," she admitted, trying to console him._

_He nodded and tried to smile for her. He couldn't explain why it hurt him so much that she had forgotten, even briefly, that they had been bride and groom in a fake wedding ceremony when she was much younger. **He** thought about it nearly every day – not always consciously… but he did think of her as his wife – so it hurt him that their 'wedding' had meant so little to her._

"_How did I ask you?" _

"_Hmm?" He had distracted himself so with destructive thoughts that he had not heard her question him._

"_How did I ask you to marry me?" she repeated as they got into their car and started off._

"_I was lying in bed, sweetheart," he said fondly, remembering. "And you came bounding into my room and jumped on me, climbing over me in your haste to tell me what you wanted to do that day. You grasped my hand and you said…" He paused, clearing his throat as the emotion of the memory started to choke him. "You said you loved me… and you wanted to be a bride today and that you'd chosen me to have the great honour of first refusal to be your groom. Of course, you used different words… but you asked me if I'd want to marry you and you slid a sticky sweet ring onto my ring finger when I accepted your proposal." He screwed his face up in imitation of revulsion when, really, he had found it charming. "It was disgusting… but loveable. I had to keep it on all day to make you happy – but I did it gladly. You don't know this but I had an engagement ring commissioned the next day to commemorate the one you had given me… I wear it over my heart on a chain around my neck. It is for you when you are older."_

"_Erik," she said so clearly that he was surprised and turned to her momentarily._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_That has got to be the single most beautiful sentiment in the entire world." They shared a look that said more than he could at that moment and she found herself raising her Angel's pedestal even higher in her perception. "You know that I don't believe in divorce," she smiled cheekily at him, and he could not help returning the gesture._

"_No… nor do I," he laughed, waiting to see what she was leading to._

_She drew circles on her lap with the tip of her finger, biting her bottom lip as she had her fun drawing it out. "I suppose that means you're stuck with me… **forever**."_

_As they stopped at traffic lights, he looked over at her for a long moment, suddenly turning the light teasing into an entirely serious conversation. "Forever isn't nearly long enough."_

* * *

"Would you like some orange juice?" Erik asked as they sat down to their continental breakfast at a table towards the side of the restaurant. 

"Thank you…" she nodded, holding her glass out for him. She looked at him curiously as he started eating next to her and she really couldn't pull her eyes away from him. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He wrinkled his forehead and stared over at her. "Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"

"Erik, I'm sorry, I–"

"I don't wish to speak of it."

"Erik–"

"No, do not mention it. It never happened."

She felt so guilty she wanted to let him do what he liked, but she thought that burying their heads in the sand was not exactly a permanent measure. "You're hurting, Erik… and it's my fault. Let me take some of it away."

"You must think very highly of yourself if you believe I can't do something as simple as eat breakfast civilly, just because you don't want me the way I want you." Of course, he _couldn't_… but that was not the point.

She reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly, offering a sympathetic smile. "You have every right to be angry… I don't mind if you have to shout at me – though, perhaps once we're home."

"I am not angry at you. You had every right to reject a hideous creature like me in the cruellest way you could think of…"

"Oh, my Angel…" she said sadly. "I haven't rejected you… I told you that. I just don't want you to get in trouble."

"So you say…" he mumbled.

Playing with her knife nervously, Christine found her courage at the moment sufficient to ask him a question she'd been wanting to. "Do you find me attractive?"

"Don't play with my heart, Christine," he warned, staring pointedly at her, though he could not ever muster enough anger at her to pull his arm away from her touch.

"I'm not playing. I think you are the most handsome man in the world…" she admitted. "Do you find me pretty?"

"'Pretty' would not even begin to describe your beauty."

_Forever, _she thought sadly_. It'll pass like a walk in the park. Why waste time when forever will never be enough?_ "Nobody knows us in Florence," she stated suddenly.

"What does that mean?" Erik was confused… first they had been talking about breakfast and then his attraction towards her – and now they were talking about their lack of acquaintances in a country they did not even live in. He wished she would include him in the little conversations she had with herself when she was jumping between subjects.

"We never did have a honeymoon…"

"What?" Could she say nothing that would make sense?

"You think I don't remember when we 'got married'… but I do – and I also remember we didn't have our honeymoon."

"If you are going to torment me, Christine, at least have the decency to do so in language I will understand."

"Shush, Angel," she reprimanded softly, squeezing his hand this time. He felt like he'd been told off for something and he had absolutely no idea what he'd done. "Have you paid for the flights yet or only reserved them?"

"I paid a reservation fee, that's all… why?"

Happy that her spur-of-the-moment plan was working so far, she jumped up and started tugging lightly on Erik's arm. "Let's go back upstairs and tell them we're going home… and then take our things to a hotel a few hours away. We can stay for the remainder of the trip together."

"Stay in Florence together?" he asked confusedly, still where she left him lost in their conversation about five questions back.

"Why not?"

"You're sure? Please tell me I'm not reading something into you wanting to stay here with me…"

She shook her head and smiled in her certainty. "You aren't, Angel… and I promise to be open with you while we are here. I'm staying because I'd like to be able to work out my feelings for you."

Satisfied, he nodded and took her hand as they went upstairs to do as she'd said. _He _was already so sure in his feelings for _her_.

_

* * *

Yawning, a recently awakened Erik had just gone down to the kitchen early that morning, quiet in his weariness. Surprisingly, his little seraph had not jumped on him to wake him up… in fact, he had not seen her at all that morning. And while he had only been up a scarce few minutes, he was already missing her terribly. Yes, he would go up and see her just as soon as he'd finished. He was standing by the kitchen window in his bathrobe, pausing in rinsing his mug out as he yawned and looked out at the back garden and then he noticed… the rain was pelting down and he was quite surprised to find that his little Christine was standing stock still on the grass. _

_Of course, he rushed outside to her and turned her to face him, terrified that she would get ill out there in the cold and the wet, and he had absolutely no idea just how long she'd been there. Slowly, he brushed some of her tangled, drenched hair away from her forehead and pressed her against himself. "What are you doing?" he asked worriedly. "Has something happened? Christine, you're scaring me…"_

"_Angel, you're crushing him," Christine complained, struggling lightly against him._

_Surprised, Erik let go of her and crouched down so that he was more level with her to see what she was talking about. And though the heavy rain slightly obscured his vision, he noticed what appeared to be a long stuffed toy in her arms. "What's this?" he asked, coaxing her arms open so he could understand better what was going on. And he managed to persuade her to turn the little dead weasel over to him while he tried to take in the situation properly. "Christine… what were you doing with this?"_

"_He was lonely, Angel…" she whispered sadly, prying the little creature back out of Erik's hands._

"_Sweetheart…" he started, unsure of how to tell her. He was not sure, even, how much she knew of death that she could understand. "He's not lonely… he is dead, little love."_

"_He was lonely, Angel, lying in the mud… he deserves to be buried."_

"_How about we wait until it stops raining, and then we can give him a proper burial, hmm?"_

"_I'm surprised at you, Angel… he deserves the same respect in death as he deserved in life."_

"_When did you become such a mature young woman?" he laughed, and then stopped himself quickly as he saw her seriousness. "Alright… I'll get a spade; you pick the place you want to bury him."_

_Returning quickly, he asked her if she'd made up her mind yet and found himself surprised that she wanted him buried right next to the house. "Why not at the top of the garden where there'll always be flowers on his grave?"_

"_Flowers are pretty, Angel, but they are for the living. Here, he will be near the house's warmth and the window to the music room is just up there… **that** he will always have."_

"_You have a wisdom quite beyond your years…" he murmured proudly. "Your ability to empathise with **anyone** still astounds me, little one. Tell me… why do you care **so** much?"_

"_Because, Angel," she started, and she looked at him with such clarity that it would have surprised him in a fully grown adult, let alone a young child. "He has to put up with it for an eternity… I can't let him suffer."_

"_You are so loving, aren't you? Come, let's go inside and get you dried off… we'll have hot chocolate and sit in front of the fire. I'll sing a requiem for your weasel at bedtime."_

"_I love you, Angel. No one else would understand."_

"_Oh, my sweet Christine," he smiled, taking hold of her little hand as they started towards the door. "**I** love **you**."_

* * *

"The way you complained about him being here, you'd think you'd be glad to see them go…" Ada commented as she watched her daughter mope in the hotel room the day after Christine and Erik had left. 

"They're not answering," Meg complained, ignoring her mother's observation. "I'm going to call his friend… get him to check up on them. Do you have a number?"

"For Piers? I should do, somewhere here…" And she rifled through her handbag until she came across her address book. "Ah. Found it…"

Dialling the number, Meg waited impatiently as it rang and just caught herself before she sighed in relief when he answered. "This is Meg Giry… I was wondering if you'd heard from Christine and Erik yet."

"No, I haven't… they aren't back yet."

"What do you mean? They went home yesterday…"

"Well, they aren't here. I thought they would be so I went round a few times, but they're not there – Erik's car isn't in the driveway, there are no lights on, and he hasn't answered the door like he usually does when he gets fed up of the ringing…"

"Well, thanks anyway."

"Of course."

Saying goodbye, they both hung up and Meg turned to her mother with a frustrated expression. "He says they're not there."

"How can they not be there when they left yesterday? It doesn't take a whole day to get from Italy to England."

"Don't ask _me_…"

"But why would they stay?"

Suddenly, something changed in Meg's expression and she turned back to the phone, Ada watching her daughter as she looked up a number and dialled out. "Uh, hello… I seem to have misplaced all of my flight information – I'd like confirmation on when I have to be at the airport. My name is Christine Daaé… I'll be travelling with Erik Phelps-Jones. The tickets should be under his name." Ada watched still as her face lit up and she smiled. "Wonderful. Thank you," she finished, hanging up. "I don't know where they are… but I know where they'll be and when they'll be there."

* * *

"_Do you, Christine Daaé, take Raoul de Chagny as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"_

"_I–"_

"_Stop this travesty at once," Erik shouted, barging in on the little dress-up wedding ceremony being held between Christine and Raoul, with some of her other friends present, just in time to prevent her from committing adultery and bigamy, he believed._

"_What's wrong, Angel?" she asked innocently, looking up at him with those wide, unassuming eyes that could make him do anything for her._

_But he could not let that happen this time… the hurt was just too much. He placed his hands on her shoulders and resisted the urge to shake her until she relented. "How dare you do this with **him** when you have already taken vows with me?"_

"_Angel… I don't understand," Christine blinked confusedly. "This is just make-believe… Raoul and I aren't getting married."_

"_Do these words mean **nothing** to you?" he shouted at her, holding her firmly, while consumed with revulsion at the sight of her wearing the same dress she had worn at **their** 'wedding'. "You can't just say them to one person one day and then another the next! There is a sanctity in marriage… it is a union between **two** people – not whomever you happen to feel like that day."_

_As young as they were, the other children did not much enjoy hearing an adult in such a rage and they ran off to play somewhere **he **wasn't. Which made Christine cry, of course, and Erik looked once at her tears in those precious eyes and his anger evaporated. He'd made her cry and her friends run off… she was just eight years old and he'd ruined her day over such a little thing. He was ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry… please, don't cry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you… and I'm not angry at you. I just… I love you so much and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."_

_He pulled her against himself and buried his hand in her hair, pressing her into his chest tightly. Then he crouched down in front of her and pulled her hands into his. "This ring," he said, pointing to the little finger of his left hand. "This ring I bought when you first came to stay with me, so that I could give it to you when you were old enough… I wear this ring for **you**, Christine. I wear it as a symbol of my fidelity."_

_She looked at him curiously, not completely understanding. And she told him so in her child-like innocence that so flattered him towards her._

"_Darling… it only means that I love you too much to ever let anyone come between us. As an example, how would you like it if I put on the pretence of marrying another?"_

"_I'd hate it," she answered honestly._

"_Good girl," he smiled, kissing each of her palms individually. "Stay faithful to me as I stay faithful to you."_

"_Angel?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I'll promise never to marry Raoul if you buy me some ice cream…" she smiled mischievously, as though she'd gotten away with a naughty deed._

_Erik looked at her seriously for a long moment and then shrugged his shoulders once, getting up to go and get his coat. It really was a small price to pay for what he would be receiving…_

* * *

"What are _you_ smiling at?" Christine asked brightly. 

"Oh," he started, turning to her as she brought him out of his daydream. "I was just thinking about you…" he finished sentimentally, stroking his hand along her bare forearm as they sat together on the bed in their new hotel room. Christine had convinced him to get them a double room instead of two singles, foregoing completely any pretence over why they were there. She knew they would only tiptoe around each other if they had separate beds and didn't know where they stood in their relationship. Besides… they'd slept in the same beds before. Erik hadn't needed much persuading…

"Why think about me when I'm right here?"

"Sometimes the past is less painful than the present…" he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple.

"It doesn't have to be…"

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"This week together, away from all other distractions, might just do us some good to work out what we want."

"You said two weeks _apart_ would do us good…"

"Clearly, I had taken leave of my senses."

"How do you feel, Christine?" he asked ambiguously. She wasn't sure whether he wanted to know how she felt _about him_ or just how she felt. And she couldn't make herself speak to ask him, choosing to stare simply at him instead. As he noticed something glinting in the light, he looked down. "You're still wearing my ring," he pointed out.

"Yes."

"What does _that_ mean?"

She turned towards him fully and placed both of her hands over his on the pillow serving as an armrest between them, staring down at them until she had the courage to look up at him and was sure of the right words to say. "I love you."

"Oh, Christine…"

"I love you _so much_…" And she kissed him just to show him and for her own sake – it felt remarkably freeing being able to kiss him without having to account for her actions. "How I love you… but I'm not sure…"

"About marriage?" he asked, quite ready to tell her the proposal could be postponed indefinitely, until she was ready, whenever – and _if_ ever – that occurred.

"About acceptance… I'm not sure how well such news would be received. And you certainly cannot tell anyone until after I've left school or you'll be in a whole world of trouble. And I can't allow that. But… if you can wait until then, I'd… I'd like to be with you."

"Yes. God, yes."

"May I keep the ring until then?" she asked softly, leaning back on the pillows again and replacing her left hand comfortably on his thigh as he held her.

"You may keep my ring and my heart always."

Smiling, she leaned her head back against his chest and snuggled up as he put his arm further around her. They would be alright, she thought. Never did she doubt that… though she might come to find, as with all things, that perhaps she should have.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, July 2006

Please leave a review… feed my fickle ego, and pester me.


	10. Chapter 10: The Measure of Love

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.

**A/N: **All my reviewers, I owe you my thanks. Have a look at my new story **Let Me Be Your Hero** if you get a chance. It's quite different. Enjoy!

Please read and review…

**Chapter 10: The Measure of Love…**

"_What are you singing?" Piers asked just as soon as Erik had stopped, watching as his friend tucked the recently sleep-succumbed child he cared for into her bed._

"_Requiem for a Weasel…" he replied softly, running his hand faintly across Christine's forehead, marvelling at her beauty and innocence even as she slept. Someone who could keep up such an image perpetually was truly everything they portrayed themselves to be. She was divine._

"_What?"_

"_Christine's weasel died – we are giving him the send-off he deserves… she fell asleep during the requiem, but I could not just leave it there."_

_Piers **had** wondered why Erik had answered the door, holding a sleeping Christine against him and singing without pause as he let his colleague into the house. "Forgive me… I didn't realise Christine had a pet."_

"_She didn't… they became acquainted when he was already post mortem."_

"_You wrote a Latin requiem mass for a weasel Christine found dead?" Piers asked incredulously._

"_Yes," he stated matter-of-factly, still gazing upon the beautiful child in front of him._

"_Oh." Really, he didn't know why he felt embarrassed to have thought otherwise… but things were strange in this house – the occupants lived by different rules than the rest of the planet._

"_She is a delicate soul…" he murmured, placing his hand on top of hers on the bed covers. "She needs to know he was loved."_

"_A weasel? Seriously?"_

_Erik nodded solemnly and stood up to leave the room so that she might rest without disruption. "I took her down to the pet shop and had a headstone created."_

_Piers looked straight at him and shook his head, watching as Erik ran his eyes over the dark room one last time, to make sure nothing was amiss, and closed the door. "If ever one could measure love on a scale, it would be on willingness to do absurd things for their loved one, while finding them absolutely normal… and **you'd** win."_

"_Too bloody right."_

* * *

"So why don't you tell me what I'm doing here?" Piers asked as he stood in the airport with Ada and Meg. It was early Sunday morning and, quite frankly, he'd rather be asleep in bed than standing in the Arrivals lounge of an airport, waiting for God-knows-what to happen.

Ada looked up at the screen which stated that their plane had recently arrived and studied it again, even though they'd all checked numerous times. Neither Meg nor Ada could understand why they were so nervous about the next few minutes however. "Meg found out that Erik and Christine lied about coming home early and stayed in Italy instead. We swapped flights two days early to be here before them…" Ada said at last.

Piers narrowed his eyes at them both. "To see them arrive?"

"Yes."

"And you cut short your holiday for this?" he asked incredulously. Was he living on a world where he was the only sane person? _Really_, he thought, _normal people don't do these things…_

"Yes."

"What is it you think is going to happen?" And then he bit back a colourful expletive as Meg jabbed him in the chest to get his attention back on the long, wide corridor before them where he noticed the couple that they had been waiting for… Christine and Erik were walking together there, their sides pressed flush against each other and his arm around her as he pulled their bags along. "So, what?" Piers asked, turning back to Ada and Meg. "I've seen them look more compromised than that." And he had, too… that is, until he saw Erik turn towards Christine and give her a full, open-mouthed kiss on the lips. "Well… maybe not _that_ compromised."

As the two adults stared in shock, Meg took her phone out of her pocket and took a picture and videoed it for extra measure, even as they continued out of the airport, unaware of their trio of spies.

_

* * *

Erik was standing by the kitchen window early one morning, pausing in rinsing his cup to look out the window at the dull, but mild, day ahead of him. In fact, the day was oddly reminiscent of one not too long ago when his little Christine had found that weasel and taken it upon herself to oversee his funeral arrangements._

_As the blurriness cleared from his eyes, however, Erik did not waste time blinking to make sure he was seeing what he appeared to be. Immediately, he let go of the cup, uncaring as it clattered into the sink, and he ran outside, bare feet and all, up the garden where he caught Christine just as she fell with a little squeal from a tree, right into his arms._

"_What were you doing?" he asked a little more harshly than he had intended as his fear of her getting injured burst through. "You could have been hurt! What if I hadn't been here to catch you?" _

"_You are always here to catch me when I fall, Angel," she said innocently, unfazed by his upset. She could very well have fallen and broken her neck, but, in the way only a little child can, she did not seem affected in the least._

_Calming slightly, he placed her on her feet in front of him and shook his head sternly. "What were you doing?" he repeated._

"_The little bird fell out of the nest and I wanted to help it back…"_

"_Oh, my child… you must understand… you can't save them all," he said sadly, wishing she would never have to learn that hard lesson._

"_Somebody has to, Angel…"_

"_Don't make me put child-locks on the doors…" he warned, terrified one night she'd go outside by herself and something would happen to her and he wouldn't know until morning. Though, secretly, he believed he would **feel** it should anything ever happen to her… they were connected in a way he couldn't explain. He loved in a way he couldn't describe. And she traipsed back inside the house in her little child's walk, Erik merely watching her go, as she was clearly unaffected by his threat. And of course she was… for her, there would always be her Angel protecting her so that she might protect the littler ones than herself. Would that she would never learn it could be otherwise…_

_Christine… saver of little animals… overseer of the burials of small, furry creatures… spokesperson for quadrupeds…_

_Christine… **keeper of Erik's heart**._

* * *

"I can't believe my mum made me come back to school today when we're still supposed to be on holiday for another two days," Meg complained, walking up to Christine as she got out of Erik's car in the teachers' car park.

Christine stared in total surprise to see her friend there and then smiled, happy that she was there. She _had _missed her after all… maybe not as much as she had missed Erik when they were parted – but she _had _missed her. "Meg? What are you doing here? I…"

"Well, after you left, we couldn't really come to an agreement about anything…" _Like what to do about him kissing you_, she finished in her mind, almost glaring at Erik. She, her mother and Piers had not yet decided what they were going to do about Erik and Christine… the two adults didn't want to get Erik in trouble but all three of them were also vastly concerned about Christine. They had, as a group, decided to speak to them about it, but, beyond that, no other conclusions had been reached. "So we decided we'd better just come home early."

"I'm sorry I ruined your holiday."

"No, Christine, it wasn't _your_ fault." And it wasn't… it was _Erik's_, so Meg believed – let _him_ take the blame for it. Let _him_ get in trouble for it. It was a pity, then, that Meg couldn't quite see what that would do to Christine.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, Meg," she greeted genuinely, giving her a quick hug before Erik took hold of her and pried her away.

"There is no point in being here at all if you are going to stand outside during classes," he commented dryly, leading Christine inside. He took her straight to his room and deposited all of their things there before sitting with her in his chair and him leaning against his desk on the same side. And then she had to go and say something he hadn't been expecting…

"Meg is my friend."

"Yes." He nodded, unsure what else there was to say on the subject.

"I don't pry _you_ away from Piers… in fact, I do nothing but make sure you do actually spend time with people other than me."

"Firstly, Piers is just one person, Christine. Secondly, spending time without you is hell… you only torture me. And thirdly, I am not keeping you away from Meghan."

"Then what was that? I just saw her when I hadn't expected to see her for another couple of days, and you pulled me away before I even had a chance to ask her what the flight was like."

"I didn't do it to spite you. It did not even occur to me… I'm sorry." For some reason unwilling to forgive him just yet his slight, she pouted like a child, got up out of his seat and went over to her own desk, no longer speaking to him. "Christine, don't get upset. We were so happy this morning, weren't we? We had a wonderful time when it was just us in Italy… we became closer and worked out our feelings… we talked it all through… how is it I manage to upset you not a minute after we arrive here, without even meaning to?" Raising her eyebrows slightly, Christine continued blanking him, brushing at an imaginary imperfection along her nails. "What have I done? What is it that is upsetting you?" he asked, lowering himself beside her to try to get her attention. It seemed that, ever, he had to pander to receive her affections.

He was frustrated that she wouldn't talk to him and was even more so when he had to pull away from her because his first class had started to come in. _What the hell was that anyway? _he thought._ Did we just have our first fight as a couple? What was it even about? And **are** we a couple yet, really?_ He was confused… he had never been in a situation anything like this before. He didn't know enough to assume that they were seeing each other romantically. To most, it might seem clear – but he was flabbergasted.

It was hard to have a fight with your boyfriend, Christine found – if she could even call him that – when he was her teacher all day at school. While she wanted to torment him at home because he had upset her, she found she was forced to sit through a whole day of his teaching. She was in a total huff with him, ignoring him as he spoke, crossing her arms over her chest and pointedly looking away from him.

Erik sighed and tried to continue teaching. It would be a strange day…

* * *

"Meg, can I borrow your phone?" a friend asked behind her, while she was distracted with telling several others of her almost-two weeks in Florence.

She nodded, though she wasn't really paying attention, and it slipped her notice as, slowly, people began to move away from where she was leaning over a desk describing her holiday, to the area behind her where her friend with her phone was sitting. But the gasps could only escape her notice for so long and then she whirled around in her seat, finding everybody there open-mouthed, their attention fixed upon the little screen. "What are you looking at? Oh, my God," she whispered, shocked, grabbing the phone back and turning it in time to see the video of Christine being kissed by their teacher and her foster father.

"I knew they were at it!" someone exclaimed loudly at the back, as though they had known all along.

"You did not!"

"Oh, come on… it's obvious!"

"What's going on in here?" Erik shouted as he found his class in disarray after lunch, leading Christine back into the room by the hand, unfortunately only making the situation worse. While she had been angry at him earlier, when it came to lunch, she'd followed him to eat together – something he'd found much to his pleasing – and they'd actually managed to steal a kiss in the toilets while everyone was in the canteen, though they'd agreed they shouldn't do that often. "What are you doing? Meghan," he said, turning to look at her, "as well you should know, you are not allowed your phone in school."

Seeing the look on Meg's face, Christine pushed to the front, before Erik, and approached her friend hesitantly, touching her shoulder. "Meg? Meg, what is it?" Meg just stared at her, her surprise still apparent on her face, and guilt over the situation making her feel sick as the other girls started giggling at Christine.

So she reluctantly handed her phone over to her best friend as Erik shouted at his class to be quiet. "I'm sorry," Meg whispered as she looked Christine right in the eye. She had _never _meant for it to go this far…

Unable to keep any sort of control over his own class, where once he could silence them with a single look, Erik gave up on them as a couple ran off, out of the room, and he focused his attention on his distraught seraph. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked gently, pulling her back against him so he could see the phone over her shoulder and watch what was upsetting her.

And truly, Christine's worst nightmare had come true… Erik was going to be in so much trouble. And yet, it was _her_ heart that fluttered, and _her_ stomach that turned, and _her_ tears that coursed down her cheeks in agony. "Meg, how could you?" she bit out quietly, choking on her own tears. Then she turned in her Angel's arms and let him comfort her, burying her face in his chest. "Erik, what'll we do?"

He was uncertain, taking a moment to think as he pulled her out into the relative privacy of the hallway, and immediately his mind started running through all the logical, possible scenarios available to them. And in that moment, he concluded that it would always be better for Christine that he take full responsibility and face the consequences.

They were distracted by a man clearing his throat and both turned their heads to look at him. "Mr. Phelps-Jones, I'd like to see you in my office _now_," the Headmaster announced, a disapproving look upon his face as he rounded the corner and found them together. Obviously, someone had run and told him. "Christine… Pauline, in Reception, will take care of you."

"No, Christine comes," Erik argued.

"You would drag her into such an uncomfortable position?"

"You don't know Christine as I do… she will find this the lesser of the two evils."

He looked at the girl for reassurance of that and nodded finally, leading the way back to his office. "I suppose you will have the decency not to deny it…" he started when the pair of them were seated before his desk, though he continued to pace.

"I don't deny a thing."

"I cannot believe you!" he shouted suddenly, incensed. "You _slept _with a student! Have you any idea…?"

"Oh, no – no, no, no – I did not sleep with her… it was only ever a kiss." Erik shook his head fiercely and took hold of Christine's hand. Perhaps it was not the best idea, but he could not bear to have people think he was capable of taking advantage of her like that.

Sceptically, the Headmaster gave him a challenging look and relented as Erik did not waver. So he calmed somewhat – after all, they could explain away a single kiss, couldn't they? They could not explain away the two of them actually having sex. "Well… as you know, I am obliged to report this before the end of the day. I suggest you use the little time you have to make arrangements for Christine to stay with someone else for the foreseeable future."

"What?" she gasped, feeling her whole world crashing down.

"I am sure Mrs. Giry will be happy to take her from me," Erik commented sourly.

Christine shook her head immediately and squeezed Erik's hand more tightly. "No. I am not going with them – you cannot make me stay with Meg when _she _did this, Angel. I simply won't do it."

He nodded, turning to look at her. "And I'd cut off my own arm before I'd allow you to be taken away."

"Erik… you are treading on very thing ice. Don't be so hasty… how about we ask Piers instead? Surely, he and Christine are acquainted well enough after all these years…"

"She isn't leaving her own home – she has down nothing wrong and will not be treated as if she has." He glared furiously at the man for wanted so much to take his Christine away from him. There was no way in hell that he was going to give her up when he'd only just gotten to a more romantic level with her.

"Certainly, Christine, _you_ shouldn't feel you did anything wrong…" the Headmaster reaffirmed.

"I don't feel either of us did anything wrong… it was totally consensual."

He sighed and ran his hand across his face in frustration – never had he expected to have to deal with such a situation in his whole working career. "Don't you realise you could go to prison for this, Erik?"

"I am aware of that possibility, yes."

"You realise you could get two to four years for having a relationship with a pupil? And that's without adding in that you're her foster father… Lord knows what you'll get then. They'll make an example of you."

He nodded and clutched Christine's hand all the tighter as they both almost cut off the circulation in each other's hands because of the strength with which they strived to stay together. "I know that, yes."

"All I can say is that you're damned lucky this was stopped before you'd done anything further… you might just get out of this without her being taken away from you. I have no choice but to suspend you until further notice." Walking to the door of his office, he turned briefly while opening the door, as though he was going to say something, but thought better of it and continued out of the room, leaving them to wallow in their worry.

Christine turned to her Angel and broke down in his arms, sobbing as he stroked her back in comfort. "I love you," he whispered, squeezing her upper body tightly against him. "It'll all be alright, my beautiful Christine."

"I never thought… in all my worrying about this, I never thought people would find out this quickly. It's all my fault…"

"How can you think that?" he asked softly.

"If I hadn't persuaded you to stay in Florence with me, we wouldn't be in this mess…"

"Darling, you could not have predicted that this would happen… you could not have known that Meg would do what she did. It is my fault for kissing you that way after we'd gotten off of the plane… if I had stuck to what you wanted, it would be different now. I ask you to forgive me."

"Angel–"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. He really did know her too well. "Just forgive me, nothing more…"

"I forgive you. Angel, I love you." Placing her arms around his neck, she pulled him so tightly against herself that she only mourned her inability to exist with him as one entity, and refused to let go, hugging him so tightly he wondered if he could drive home like that. For surely – _surely_ – she would consent to coming with him after he'd cleared out his desk… he didn't think she'd want to stay there. And while he was terrified of what they would try to do to his Christine because of him, a small part of him was happy that their relationship was out in the open. He wanted nothing more than to be allowed to show love and affection for her whenever he wanted – not just when he had made sure that they were completely alone, with no chance of being overheard or suspected of anything.

"Darling, will you come home with me now?" he asked, needing to make sure. "If you'd prefer to stay at a friend's house, I will understand… but this will be difficult, and I want you home with me so that we can take care of each other. I need your support, Christine. I crumble without you."

"How can you think I'd go with anyone but you? Even now, don't you know that my loyalties lie with you alone?"

"I only want you to have the choice, Christine… you always deserve that."

"And I'll always choose you."

_

* * *

Forever, he had been finding her in the most seemingly uncomfortable places at night. She would turn up in the oddest places, apparently sleeping soundly and he would wonder how on earth she could manage it._

_He had just come downstairs this time to find her curled up on top of an extension cable. At first, he had been slightly worried, then he thought it was adorable that she could be so tired to fall asleep there. So he lifted her delicately into his arms, smiling down upon her beautiful face as he carried upstairs to bed. He reasoned that she would be more comfortable there and he didn't want her getting cold in the middle of the night, or frightened that he was not right in the next room. _

_Not ten minutes later, she'd appeared at the door to his study, looking delightful in her tiredness, and he gasped at how remarkable it felt just to see her everyday. Bringing her into his arms, he dabbed the tired girl on the nose and laughed as she yawned quietly, too overcome with her exhaustion to speak to him and tell him what was wrong. He rocked her gently for a time and just as she was falling asleep again, he stood to put her to bed, only to find that she stirred more than he'd intended and sat right up in his arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmured thoughtfully._

"_I can't sleep in bed."_

"_Why not?"_

"_My mattress is boring…"_

"_Boring?" he laughed joyously, amused at such a silly, yet obvious, comment. Of course mattresses were boring… they were mattresses._

"_Yes," she answered seriously, and he tried to stifle his amusement to spare her feelings. _

"_Is **my** mattress more or less boring?" he asked after a moment, curious as to what constituted a boring mattress._

_She thought about it for a minute, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as she did so and chewed her bottom lip ever so beautifully. "Your mattress is slightly less boring than mine," she concluded._

_He laughed again, wondering how she had decided that, and kissed her on the nose in his fondness. "Do you want to sleep in **my** bed, then?"_

_She considered that for a moment and gave in to her tiredness, nodding her head for him to take her to his room. _

_Relinquishing his precious cargo upon the bed, he pulled the covers up around her affectionately, and found himself lost in her innocence, slowly sitting down beside her as he was unable to look away. "How lovely," he murmured and leaned to kiss her forehead even as he stroked her hair gently. Seeing her like that – looking so peaceful – he started feeling tired himself and stood up, unwillingly drawing his eyes away from her as he was forced to go to the wardrobe to change into his pyjamas._

_When he was done, he slipped in beside her happily and drew her against him, sighing in contentment as he felt himself start to drift off to sleep. "I love you," he whispered as he placed his chin on her shoulder._

_And he knew no more until morning and he began to wake to the oddest feeling of his feet being leaden and heavy. He tried moving them but found himself unable to do so, and that worried him into total wakefulness as he sprang up into a sitting position and searched the half-light desperately with his tired eyes to make sure his feet were alright. And as he ran his hands along the lump present over his ankles, he found it groaned, which surprised his tired mind and he jumped back slightly until he realised that Christine was no longer in his arms, or even beside him in the bed. "Darling," he said softly as he uncovered the little lump and ran his hand through the length of curls that surfaced. _

_She stirred and moved in such a way that all of the circulation suddenly returned to his feet and he wriggled around in the discomfort, succeeding only in making her sit up and glare at him. "Stop kicking me," she complained quietly, yawning as she turned over and curled back up on his feet._

"_You're on my ankles, Christine," he said almost sheepishly as he wondered where she had learned to glare so unnervingly at such a young age. **Perhaps she has picked up some of my habits**, he mused, looking on helplessly as she ignored him. He gave one final token struggle to remove his feet from underneath her and then promptly gave up and flopped back against his pillows to see if he could sleep again for a little while._

_And when, at last, bedtime the next night came, Erik was only marginally surprised to find Christine already lying under the covers in his bed. He sighed, though not unhappily, and got in beside her, finding it endearing as she repositioned herself on his feet again and seemed to go right back to sleep. It amused him how she slept so soundly in a position of discomfort._

_And this continued on for several nights at least, Erik finding he was pinned down by his feet every morning when he woke up. As the same routine played out, he leaned forward over her, slightly wondering why he was bothering, and tapped her gently. "Christine, you're on my ankles again, sweetheart…"_

"_Mmm… be quiet, Angel, I'm sleeping."_

"_Christine, my darling little girl," he tried again, nudging her slightly with one hand. "Christine, you're lying on me again, my sweet child."_

_Groaning, she rolled over onto her other side to escape his gentle prodding, though still on his ankles, and drifted right back to sleep._

_He sighed and resigned himself to not being able to get up until she was quite ready to move. It was not an awful thing… it did not make him annoyed – it was not frustrating. As far as he was concerned, his little seraph had just one more nuance of her character that he had the ability to explore and love. She was darling, he thought._

_And he still thought so later that day even as he limped around the living room and tried to put as little weight on each foot as he could – which led to a rather interesting little display for Christine to watch from her place in the doorway._

"_You're silly, Angel," she laughed._

_He smiled back at her, finally slumping down on the sofa. "Thank you."_

_She approached him as he beckoned her over, and hopped up into his arms, considerate enough not to land on the foot he was nursing. He gave up doing so and wrapped his arms around her, watching in amazed affection for her as she lifted his foot delicately into her delicate little hands and started massaging them. She could be so sweet, he knew, but this really shouldn't concern her when she was just a child and should not want to care for him. _

_As she soothed the dull, throbbing ache, he felt himself drifting off and leaned back with her unconsciously, almost reaching a state of complete peacefulness when she spoke to him. He had to concentrate very hard just to work out what she'd said, and then rubbed his hand across his face, keeping his eyes closed even as he wondered what she was talking about._

"_Angel, you like me to make up my own mind about things, don't you?" she had asked him._

"_Yes," he answered tentatively, unsure what he was getting into by saying so._

"_You like me to have a choice…"_

_He was completely unaware of where she was taking this and frowned, pulling her back closer to him as he tried to get more comfortable. "Yes. I always like you to have your choice, Christine."_

"_And I'll always choose you… and your ankles," she added as an afterthought. _

_He blinked his eyes open quickly and stared at her, though she appeared to have fallen asleep in that relatively brief period of time. **What a girl**…_

* * *

"Do you remember when I used to sleep on your ankles?"

"Yes," he said, smiling at the fond memory he had just been thinking about. He found it a beautiful thing that they could both think of the same thing at the same time. "You have had some very odd sleeping habits in your time."

"How did you ever get me out of that habit?

"One day you just weren't there anymore when I wakened up… I missed you," he admitted solemnly, suddenly sad at the less welcome memory. "You decided you preferred sleeping somewhere else from then on, and I…" He trailed off, unable to finish, even though the memory had been a sentimental one.

"What, Angel? You can tell me," she reassured, rubbing his back. "I'd never judge you."

"Promise you won't laugh at me."

"I could never laugh at something that hurts you this much."

"I cried… you had been doing it for months and I was so comforted by your presence, though I hadn't realised it until afterwards, that I waited up the next night for you to come. And when you didn't… I cried."

"Don't be ashamed," she said softly. "I think that's sweet."

He tried to smile for her and shook his head sadly. "That was it… you never did it again – not once. It seems stupid but I felt like you'd rejected me – like you'd grown tired of me. You knew there was something upsetting me – but you were just a child and you didn't know what it was… oh, but did you ever try to make me feel better. You did everything you could think of," he said fondly. She was truly a princess, he mused, thinking about her penchant for sleeping on uncomfortable objects. Though, unlike the fairytale, she was one who preferred the reassuring discomfort of the pea to its absence.

"Come on, Angel… everyone should be out of your room now – let's get it over with and get going. I'd like to be prepared when people start asking questions."

"You are right, of course," he agreed, standing up with her, and refusing to let go of her as they made their way back to his classroom. He was terrified that someone was going to try to take her away from him and he was unconsciously counting the seconds that passed until he had her back in his car, the doors securely locked, and them on their way home.

"It'll be alright," Christine tried to reassure him, squeezing his knee even as he was driving. He found she calmed him, but he still could not shake the desperation seeping through him that she might be removed from his care. In that case, nothing would be alright… he'd die without her constant presence, especially now that he knew she loved him almost as much as he loved her. He knew that if he wasn't allowed to see her again, that would seal his fate.

And finally he snapped, angry at everyone else, though they were not there for him to shout at like she was, and he grumbled angrily, "I don't know how you can be so blasé about this."

She looked at him sadly and put her hand on his shoulder, admitting, "If I am anything less than indifferent, I fear I will be inconsolable…"

Shaking his head, he drew in a deep breath and kicked himself for hurting the one person who was not to blame in any of this – the one person who mattered at all.

* * *

That night, Erik fell asleep fitfully in his own bed, suffering a terrible withdrawal from Christine. He had thought it best they sleep separately until everything was sorted out to avoid provoking further suspicion – not that anyone would ever see them… Truly, he could not explain such thinking – all he could say was that he was trying to do the best by her. He had, somehow, eventually, fallen asleep, though it did not seem to be resting him much, and he was quite uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, sighing lightly, Christine wrapped the edges of the soft blanket around her more tightly to ward off the cold of the night air, and she pushed open the adjoining door between her room and her Angel's. She had to do right by him, she knew. He was going through a lot at the minute, what with the blossoming of their romantic relationship and the threat of dismissal and even a criminal conviction hanging over his head. She didn't dare think about what they'd do if they were separated… just now, all she could offer him was herself and her comfort. And with that thought in mind, she entered her Angel's room purposefully, trying not to wake him as she crawled on top of his bed and on top of him over the covers, even as he stirred. Repositioning slightly as she wrapped the blankets more around herself, she curled up in a ball over his feet and snuggled into the long abandoned, but familiar, position upon him, noticing as he settled. It was a beautiful sight to her.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, August 2006

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	11. Chapter 11: Sensitive Souls

**The Light of His Life**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.

**A/N: **All my reviewers, I owe you my thanks. Umm… sorry for taking so… _very_… long.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 11: Sensitive Souls Cling Together…**

When the coming of morning woke Erik, he was delighted to find himself snugly situated under the captivating Christine Daaé – the woman who'd stolen his heart with her loveliness before she'd ever realised it… the woman he considered to be the only ever worthy of his effort and affection. He wasn't quite sure how they had gotten into the position they were in – with her lying more across his stomach than his feet – but he adored her for being so sweet and kind as to comfort him this way.

He leaned forward over her and smiled down upon her, taken with a sudden urge as he softly shook her awake. It was selfish perhaps, but his only excuse was that he loved her and that people do strange things when they are in love, or so he'd heard. "May I kiss you?" he asked the just awakened young woman before she'd even had a chance to survey her surroundings.

Christine smiled and touched his shoulder. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that…"

Startled that she had not agreed, he took that to mean that she did not want him to and he quickly extricated himself from her so that he was standing by the bed, not looking at her in his embarrassment. "Forgive me… I should not have assumed that we were on kissing terms now that we're back here… now that people know."

Surprised to find herself being rolled over onto her stomach so suddenly as he moved, she hesitated a moment and then pulled herself up to stand in front of him. "Don't get all insecure again… we have only just acknowledged this – if we were to take a few steps back now, we'll never get anywhere. Sometimes, in relationships, you have to be willing to leave yourself vulnerable if it means that we can move on." She wasn't exactly sure how she knew that since she had only ever been 'in a relationship' with _him_, but she believed it, and that was all that mattered.

Erik nodded and moved a bit closer to her, still feeling stupid. "I'm sorry… I don't know where I stand anymore – this has set us back terribly."

"We don't have to let it… we still feel the same way about each other – that hasn't changed, has it? All we have to do is get through this together."

"That's all, is it?" he asked softly, finding her adorable even under the circumstances. "You say that like all it is – all we have to do – is nothing…"

"Not nothing, no," she murmured thoughtfully. "But all we have to do is tell the truth… and that, Angel, is the easiest thing in the world."

Raising his eyebrows, he tentatively reached his hand out to her and waited while she took it before sitting back down on the edge of the bed with her. "Tell the truth? Do you really think so?"

"They know, Angel, about us kissing… there is no point in denying it when they can prove it. All there is apart from that is the truth that we have done nothing else together…"

Not looking at her, he nodded, though more in resignation than because he was confident that it would work. In fact, he thought it was totally hopeless… "I fail to see how we can explain away a kiss such as the one we shared without you being taken away from me."

"I am over the age of consent… and we do love each other. It was only a kiss… but perhaps you should call your solicitor before all of this starts off."

"Xavier…" he said thoughtfully, not really having realised that he would need a lawyer. "The last time he did something this big for me, he got me you." And truly, he owed Xavier the world for that, though he could have hired a dozen lawyers like him that would have done the same thing… but Christine was so special that he sometimes just found himself getting all emotional when it came to the fact that she could have been taken away from him then – that she _could_ be taken away from him now…

Christine smiled and squeezed him. Her Angel was a sentimental one, to be sure, though few other people would believe it. "Then we're already off to a winning start, aren't we? If he can get you me once, he can make it so that you can keep me."

A long moment of silence passed as he thought about it and he wondered what would happen if he ever let himself accept that there was a possibility – a huge possibility – that he could be without her. He supposed he would fall apart if he let himself think about it for too long… but he would need to think about it if he wanted to be prepared for the worst. "Christine, we need to discuss something…"

"What is it?"

"In the event that I find you are to be removed from my care, I need to know what you want," he said experimentally, finding his fingertips suddenly very interesting.

"What do you mean?"

"I need to know if you will be willing to run away with me," he said seriously, though he knew he sounded like some lovesick teenager. He was desperate though, and very serious about it. Anything at all that threatened his relationship with Christine, he would overcome. "Had you been given back to Mrs. Giry ten years ago, don't think that I would have just conceded and faded into the background. I would have taken you," he admitted. "We'd be living somewhere in another country and your beautiful voice would be calling me 'Angel' in another language… and we'd still be together."

Christine nodded, knowing how much all of this meant to him. It said a lot when someone was willing to go as far as kidnap to keep someone with them and she knew better than to underestimate him. "Yes, yes, I'll do anything. But it won't come to that."

"So much the better…"

* * *

"_Christine, put the knife down!" Erik yelled, taking a step back towards the worktop behind him as they stood in the kitchen._

_Shaking her head violently enough to whip her curls about her face, she approached him, narrowing the distance between them again until she was right in front of him, the knife held threateningly in her hand. "No! Not until you tell me the truth!"_

"_I did tell you the truth, darling," he said desperately, putting his hands in front of him defensively. "I sweat it to you, now put down the knife!"_

_Looking at him pointedly, she refused to relinquish the weapon and shrugged her shoulders. "I have to be sure."  
_

"_Be sure without holding onto that particular piece of silverware, **please**."_

"_I'm sorry," she murmured as she lowered her eyes from his face and brought the knife down hard against his chest._

"_No!" he cried out, bumping his head against a cabinet as he tried to jump back out of the way, forgetting that the counter was behind him. "Oh, for the love of Christ!" he shouted, plunging his fingers into the sticky red goo oozing on his shirt. "Jam everywhere! I hope you're happy," he said in his frustration, pointing a finger at her._

"_Very much so!" Christine smiled, having gotten what she wanted. "I knew it wasn't strawberry," she added as she turned back to the chopping board and her toast._

"_Didn't I tell you that?" Erik growled. "Didn't I tell you it wasn't strawberry? And isn't that the truth? Didn't I offer to taste it for you? But, no, dearest Christine likes to tell by the colour of it spread out! And not on your precious bread, no, but on me!"_

"_Here, let me wash it for you," she said, amused at his little display of anger. She knew he wouldn't be annoyed for very long – he couldn't be at **her**. Undoing the row of buttons slowly, she placed the handle of the little knife between her teeth to hold and continued, finding that it was actually more difficult to open them from that side._

_As his hands were covered in the red goo, Erik could do nothing but watch in fascination if he didn't want to cover her in it too. Then he noticed the knife starting to slip from her mouth, and, telling himself it was to prevent further staining, he impulsively leaned down and took the knife from her mouth with his. It was a harmless pleasure, he thought._

_Looking up at him strangely, Christine finally pulled the shirt off of his shoulders and couldn't work out what was so strange about him in that instant._

"_Perhaps I should start testing the colour of my shoe polish on your blouse…" he suggested, going to wash his hands at the sink. "Though you'll tell me it's not brown, I'll make sure. And once I'm sure that it's black, I'll pull the blouse off of you and wash it for you… how's that for fair?"_

"_You can't, I'm a woman," she said proudly, smiling in her victory and putting her hands on her hips._

"_So what?" he asked, moving back towards her._

"_Well, that's on a par with me trying to remove your trousers…"_

"_You do that all the time," he pointed out, putting on a jumper that he'd retrieved from the radiator._

"_The next time you fall asleep on the sofa, I'll let you fend for yourself then, shall I?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. "And don't blame me if your belt digs into you and you're too lazy to take it off yourself."_

_Turning around quickly and beginning to move away towards the utility room and the washing machine, she smiled out of his view as he predictably caught her arm and tried to apologise. "I'm sorry," he said meekly, reaching to gently take the soiled shirt out of her hands. "I'll wash this, shall I? You just eat and I'll join you when I'm done."_

_As he walked away, Erik did not notice Christine smile triumphantly that she had not only gotten away with spoiling his shirt but had also convinced him to clean it himself while she ate. And **she** did not notice the smile of triumph on **his** face as he walked away… because, whatever way anybody looked at it, she was still going to take his trousers off for him if he fell asleep where he shouldn't. And there was no better winning than that as far as he was concerned, he thought, laughing to himself. Yet another harmless comfort…_

* * *

"Xavier, what is the big deal? You have represented me for years…" 

The lawyer frowned and shook his head. He had known the man for years but he had never thought him the type to do what he was being told he had done. "Erik, this is unethical…"

"You're a lawyer… what is the big deal with the ethics?"

Annoyed at the stereotype and at the audacity of the man in front of him, who seemed to be clearly lacking in ethics himself, Xavier shrugged his shoulders and folded his hands in his lap. "We are talking about a child that I know you have had intentions upon since the very beginning… I now see why you were so adamant not to adopt her. There are a lot of things I would defend you for, innocent or not. But not at the expense of a child."

"I didn't have _intentions _upon her at all and I haven't hurt her… I could _never_ hurt her. She reciprocates," he added, as though that meant it was all alright because she had not completely discouraged him.

Xavier looked at him sceptically and shook his head again. "She is not an adult yet, even if it is only a few months away, she is still not _legally_ an adult… all the responsibility and the blame will lie on you, regardless of the fact that she did not immediately slap you in the face and tell you to stop or she'd scream." Sighing, Xavier looked back at Erik and tried to ignore the helpless look he saw. "Anything else… but not this."

"Angel, I'm sorry to interrupt," Christine said softly, coming in from the hallway. "I just… I need to know what's going on," she finished worriedly and Erik took pity on her, though he was feeling worried himself, gesturing her closer.

"It's alright, Christine," he murmured into her hair as she collapsed into his arms.

"Christine," Xavier said softly in greeting, not having seen her since she was tiny.

"What have you agreed?" she asked innocently, looking over at him. "You _will_ represent him, won't you?"

Looking into the eyes of the girl who seemed so desperate to keep this strange man with her, he wavered and broke under her blamelessness. Why did she deserve to suffer when she was so scared to lose him? "Yes, of course."

"Oh, good," Christine smiled, putting her arm around Erik's neck. "I was so worried. What do you think will happen?"

"Well… the police will want to talk to both of you. He will get interviewed by child protection officers and I will be present," Xavier started, gesturing towards Erik and then looking back towards Christine. "You will be interviewed less formally because of your age and that they will be treating you as a victim. Yours will be videotaped, Christine, and I won't be present. Generally, you would be allowed a parent… in this case, I expect you will be allowed a friend who is an adult."

Erik and Christine shared a look then that he could not decipher and they nodded. "Piers," they both said at the same time.

"I'll call him," Erik continued, "I don't want you to be alone."

"I don't think I could ever be alone, knowing a love like you have shown me. You don't have to worry about me. All either of us should be concerned about is making sure that I stay with you."

Proud to be able to say he'd helped raise such a wondrous, selfless young girl, Erik felt his eyes get teary, but would not allow himself to cry. At the very least, he would be strong for her if he could be nothing else. Nodding, he turned back to Xavier, keeping his arms around her waist protectively.

"Go call Piers for Christine," the resigned lawyer said, feeling decidedly awkward around the pair of them. "Tell him to come over here and then we'll get started on you telling me what's been going on in a bit more detail. It is important that both of your stories match."

* * *

"Are you alright?" Christine asked uncomfortably, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the desk in front of Erik, hoping that it might perk him up a bit as he was rather subdued, perhaps expectedly. 

His head bowed in sadness, he lifted it for her sake and looked at her longingly, trying to make himself remember the way she tilted her head, and the way she looked lost when he was sad, and the way she tried to comfort him constantly. "I'm just trying to prepare myself for it all… I am going to lose you today and it is killing me already."

"Who says you're going to lose me?"

Letting out a tortured breath, he reached out for her hand and brought her closer. "Even if they decide not to formally charge me, my love – they won't decide that in one day. I will likely be without you tonight and for the foreseeable future."

"I didn't realise it was this big…" Christine murmured, feeling as though she'd been hit in the gut with that information. "I don't know why, I just sort of thought that it would be alright."

"And it will… but it might be a while before that."

Sighing tiredly, Christine slumped down in the chair with him and left it up to him to be bothered to make sure she didn't fall. "Are _you _alright, Christine?" he asked as he brought his arms around her. "You look like you could use a bit of sleep."

"I look that bad, do I?" she laughed, trying to make herself feel less awful by making light of the situation.

"You could never look _bad_. But I think you should rest… if it does come down to it, I want to be sure you are well and I don't want you to be losing sleep over my _temporary _absence."

"I suppose I _could_ use a couple of hours…" Christine conceded, trying to hide a well-timed yawn. "When is Piers coming?"

"Just after lunch… I need to know that there is someone here with you when I am not. And Xavier is coming back as soon as he is done in the office." Looking at his beautiful, beloved girl, he stroked his hand across her cheek affectionately and allowed himself to kiss her. It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss – in fact, neither of them moved the tiniest fraction during it – but it _was_ reassuring and comforting all the same. "We'll be alright."

Standing up, she took his hand and started upstairs. "Christine?" he said questioningly, squeezing her hand as she pulled him through his own bedroom door. "Is this wise? I'm not sure if we should be doing this today when–"

"Can't we just take a nap?" she interrupted, annoyed that they could not even do things together that they had been doing for years without double questioning them. "Just a simple nap, Erik… a chaste, unadulterated, innocent nap in the comforting presence of the one we love most in the world – that's all, Angel."

"That's all, is it?" Erik smiled, repeating something he had said earlier that day as he helped her under the covers. "That sounds like such a great deal to _me_, Christine." Happily, he got in behind her, wrapping his arms snugly around her as he found himself getting tired as well all of a sudden. "Are you warm enough?" he asked concernedly, unable to keep his protective instincts from focusing on her every second that he was alive. "I could get you some more blankets… turn the heating up… I could get your hot water bottle."

Christine laughed in amusement and turned to face him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Stop worrying about me. You are keeping me warm admirably. All I need is you… and sleep," she added as an after thought, relaxing back onto her side. "I need sleep." She couldn't wait until things got back to normal again.

Erik smiled and nodded. "I'll wake you up so that you have enough time to eat before Piers gets here."

"Thank you, Angel," she said as she closed her eyes and settled down into the pillow.

He knew that they would not have much more time together… he just hoped that their heartbreaking separation would not be deemed permanent. He would never stand for it, to be sure, but he could not be doing with the sort of hassle it would cause them. And as he tightened his arms around his beloved, hearing her little noise of frustration that he was still not letting her sleep, he smiled peacefully against her hair and took in a deep breath. They would be fine… because they would always be together.

* * *

"_Happy birthday, dear Christine, happy birthday to you!" Erik finished happily, unable to prevent himself from smiling in a deranged manner as he bent over and kissed her on the nose. "Now, blow out your candles… all seventeen of them!"_

"_Yes, Angel, I **am** familiar with the tradition, yes," she said, amused at her Angel's silliness. "Do you want to help me?"_

"_Really?" he asked, amazed that she would want him to._

_And Christine rolled her eyes at him – he **always **helped her blow out her candles, though she'd long since outgrown the need to, and he was always peculiarly surprised that she wanted him to every year, without fail. "Yes, really, you silly man. Now, help me blow out my candles." Shaking her head at him, she counted them down and they extinguished all of the flames in one go. Erik liked to think that it was because they were well-suited as a team. Christine liked to think it was because one fully grown man and a young woman, both trained singers, could muster enough breath and coordination in their lungs to blow out seventeen tiny, fragile flames between them. _

_But Erik was a fantasist by nature… perhaps because of all those years he had wished to be something else – to live another life and have another face. Such thoughts of another life had stopped since he'd met his reason for living, but sometimes he still fantasised about himself and his beautiful Christine – and what they could have together. She was a very sensible girl, he found, and sometimes she thought him silly, but they were so amazing together, he believed, that they would be even more wonderful as a married couple. Still, she was only just seventeen and he was getting ahead of himself again._

"_Where did you go to just now?" Christine asked curiously from beside him._

_Blinking for a second, he turned to look at her and smiled again. "What do you mean?"_

"_You spaced out on me for a minute there…"_

"_Oh, I'm sorry, I was just caught up in how wonderful you are… and how lucky I am."_

"_You are so soppy sometimes, Angel," she said, standing up to cut the cake, and Erik felt embarrassed at what she had said, his self-consciousness returning fully. "I love it," she added after a moment, and his heart felt like it had started beating again._

_Shaking off his brief upset, he put his hands on her shoulders as she cut him a piece, and squeezed her back against him. "You have one present yet to receive," he murmured against the top of her head._

_Surprised, she turned back towards him and returned his embrace while looking up at him in wonder. "Another present? But you have given me so much…"_

_He handed her a small envelope and watched as her face lit up when she opened it. "A provisional?" she squealed excitedly. "You got me a provisional license?"_

"_I had to forge your signature, I'm afraid," he smiled naughtily and kissed her nose again, as he was wont to do. "I just wanted it to be a surprise for your seventeenth… I am going to teach you how to drive."_

"_Oh, Angel," Christine squealed again and squeezed him so hard he couldn't breathe for a second until she let go and started doing pirouettes around the room in her happiness. It was a joy for him to see that he'd made her happy in that sort of way. He looked at her curiously as she suddenly stopped and looked right at him, her beautiful eyes open wide, "When can we start?" she asked._

_And he laughed, taking his car keys out and getting a pair of L-plates that he'd bought her. "Why not right now?"_

_Squealing excitedly, as was becoming a habit that day, she grabbed his hand and ran outside to his car as he got it ready for her. And soon enough she was learning eagerly what to do when and why and she was sure that this was the best birthday ever._

_It being her first day learning, they did not do it for long and she happily called it a day when both of their stomachs started to rumble. She was just thrilled that he could be so thoughtful._

"_When you pass your test," Erik started eventually when they'd finished eating and were sitting comfortably in the living room. "And you will, you know – I'll make sure that you are ready… anyway, when you pass your test, I still don't want you driving without me in the car."_

_Lifting her head from his shoulder, she looked at him curiously. "Why?" she asked._

"_Because I couldn't bear it if something happened to you… we must always be together." _

_They **were** always together, she realised. It had never been that obvious to her before, but they were rarely separated. And obviously, he was scared of the day she would no longer need him to drive her around because it meant that she would be growing more and more independent from him. Nodding her head, she laid back down against him and hugged him. "Yes, Angel, I promise… we shall always be together." And they would, it was true, because no man could ever separate two people who loved each other as strongly as they did. _

* * *

"Hello, Piers," Christine said as she let him into the house, Erik standing anxiously behind her like her shadow. He had been doing that since they'd gotten up, the realisation that their time together was drawing to a terrifying, albeit temporary, close having sunk in while he slept. 

Stepping inside, Piers first shot Erik a glare and then looked kindly down at Christine, placing his hands on her shoulders. "And how are you, princess?" he asked seriously, resurrecting a nickname he had not called her since she was tiny, and had only ever called her because of the way Erik had spoiled her. He had long since come to think of the girl as Erik's daughter and _his_ unofficial goddaughter, if you will – he was sort of an Uncle Piers to her – and he certainly did not approve of what Erik had been doing while he had remained unaware of it. If protecting Christine meant turning his back on an old friend, then he would do so with bowed head and heavy heart, for he had come to love the girl as though she were family, and he couldn't bear it if Erik had caused her some unfixable harm. It wasn't right for her to have lost out on the chance at a normal life when she was so young… she should have been allowed be a carefree child and not have to make these sorts of decisions until she was a fully grown adult and living away from home – from _him_.

"I'm bearing up," she answered truthfully, having to hold back laughter at her old nickname.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Just be here for me while Erik can't…"

"Of course I will."

As she collapsed upon the sofa in the living room, Erik close behind her, Piers felt like he was thirteen years too late to save her from the life she was living with her masked guardian as her only companion at home.

Eventually, Christine got up because she couldn't stand the silence, and Erik was just on the verge of following her. However, Piers would not allow it. "You really screwed up this time," he said in a heated whisper as soon as Christine had left the room.

"Thank you for pointing that out to me," Erik replied dryly. "There I was thinking that it was _normal _to be hanging around, waiting for police to show up and question me."

"Well, you can only blame yourself… you certainly cannot blame _her_."

Freezing in his attempt to get up, Erik looked back at Piers in surprise. "I could never blame her," Erik said seriously, shocked and offended that anyone could think he was capable of having any negative feelings towards his little angel. "I am aware that I am about to pay heavily for my own blasted stupidity."

"So long as you know that…"

"I do," Erik said tiredly, fed up of Piers thinking he was nothing but wrong.

"Good."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Erik left it several moments and then replied childishly to get the final word in. "Fine."

"Erik," Christine called from the entrance hall as she opened the front door. "Xavier's here."

Joining her quickly in the hall, he kissed her forehead chastely and gave her a hug. "Thank you, my love. It'll be fine, you know," he said, reassuring her for the hundredth time that day. "Nobody will put any blame on you."

"_I_ do… I just feel like, if I say the wrong thing, you could be kept away from me."

"Darling," he said, mock-reprimanding her, "that is what Xavier is here for. This is not something you should be worrying over."

"But I do…"

"I know… you are a very sensitive soul."

* * *

"_I don't believe you," Christine said, highly amused. "You were never that small, Angel."_

"_I **was **that small. I was not born towering over six feet. Mother would have had an interesting pregnancy if I were, considering that she, herself, is not that tall."_

"_**Is**, Angel?" she asked curiously. "Considering that she **is** not that tall?"_

_Gesturing vaguely with his hands in agitation, he narrowed his eyes at her and growled, "**Is**… **was**… what does it matter, hmm? I am not perfect, you know. Being human, I do occasionally make mistakes."_

_She moved closer to him and hugged him fiercely to try to make him see that she would never mean to harm him. "I'm sorry… I… it's just that you don't talk about her much, and I don't want to upset you, so I don't ask… but I'm curious about your family. I want to know what relatives you have left…"_

_Feeling bad for having thought that of her, he hugged her back and made sure that when he spoke to her again, his voice was much softer than before. "You are curious about my family?" he asked and she nodded against his shoulder. "Then you need look no further than yourself. You are the only family I lay claim to, my dear."_

_Recognising that he had put a stop to the direction of the conversation, she nodded again and turned her attention back to the book he was holding. It was just a regular leather-bound scrapbook – what made it special to Christine was that it had belonged to Erik as a child. When she'd expressed an interest in his childhood, he'd briefly disappeared into the attic and had retrieved a large chest that he had kept since then. The first thing he'd shown her was the scrapbook – which he'd made himself and with no interest or help from his mother. Inside the scrapbook, he had a lot of drawings he'd done and compositions he'd noted down and many little things that he'd both forgotten about and wished not to remember again because of the painful memories that surfaced from that period in his life. And there was a page at the back, which consisted of several pieces of paper he'd stuck together lengthwise so that he had a length of paper taller than he had been at that age. He had used it in much the same way as other children's parents used a doorpost, to mark his height as he was growing._

"_Why did you do it yourself?" Christine asked eventually._

"_Mother wasn't very interested, you understand. If I wanted to do it at all, then I had to do it myself. I was only curious, you see… I didn't really know any grown men and I didn't know if I would be small my whole life or if I would one day be the height of Mother. It was stupid, I know," he sighed and shook his head at how ridiculous it had been as he put the book back in the chest._

"_It wasn't stupid," Christine said softly, stroking her fingers through his hair in comfort as she felt sentimental over her Angel. She would have loved to have seen him as a child… it was something she just couldn't conjure an image of. "I just can't imagine you that… **little**."_

"_Then I shall have to convince you," he laughed, and pulled her down the stairs with him, towards the back room. "But first, we are going to see how **you've** grown." And he opened the door, pulling her through and placing her with her back against the doorpost. Before she'd had a chance to say anything, he'd drawn a line across the top of her head, and, moving her to the side gently, he wrote below it that her age was now seventeen. Then they both stood back and looked sentimentally at all the other markings on the post, right from the age of four._

"_In the grand scheme of things, it should be insignificant… but it means a lot, doesn't it?" she said curiously, taking his hand as they stood side-by-side._

"_It means the world," he agreed. And eventually, they were able to draw themselves away from the little room and back upstairs, where the chest was. "Now, I promised you that I would prove it… so here you go." And, sitting on the floor in front of the chest, he handed her a small, neatly folded bundle, covered in fabric._

_Looking him in the eyes, she waited until he nodded his head in permission and then she unfolded the little bundle cautiously and uncovered a small suit. "These were your clothes?" she asked, fingering the miniature suit reverently, a wistful smile upon her face. "These were **yours**?"_

"_Yes, my love, those were mine."_

"_You actually **wore** them?" she asked then, though she knew it was a stupid question._

"_Yes, Christine, I wore them when I was a child. Now, does that not prove to you that I was once quite little?" he asked, amused that she was so amazed by his much smaller stature as a child._

"_Oh, oh, Erik…" she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. He couldn't_ _understand why there were tears in her eyes. "Oh, Erik, you were **adorable**."_

"_**Adorable**?" he asked, screwing his nose up. "Me?" _

"_Oh, Angel… you were so cute and childlike."_

"_I **was** a child," he said, confused to no end that she was so enthralled with his old clothes. He had expected her to look at them, realise that he had indeed been that little, and then hand them back without reaction. But here she was… getting truly emotional. "Are you alright?" he asked, a bit worried._

"_Yes… I'm fine, Angel. I just… I get sentimental sometimes."_

"_I can see that," he murmured, and he drew the dear girl into his arms, hugging her while she hugged his childhood possessions. To him, they had been mere clothes – a nice suit, yes… but one that he had long since grown out of – and to her they were something else… something of a higher level of importance. Effectively, she had just added a new value for him onto his old possessions. He suddenly cared that they remain preserved for her sake. "I love the way you react to the smallest of things, Christine," he told her. "You are a truly sensitive soul."_

* * *

"Christine?" Erik called from the bottom of the stairs. She'd disappeared upstairs soon after they'd sorted everything out with Xavier and Piers and he'd wanted to give her some time to herself because he knew she was upset. The two other men were still sitting in the living room, talking, and Erik had gotten fed up of all the waiting, wanting instead to find his beautiful angel and spend some quiet time with her. "Christine," he called again, moving swiftly up the stairs to look for her and the comfort she alone could offer. 

And, a couple of minutes later, he was still stumped over where she could be as he'd looked in every room in the house – he'd even checked the front and back gardens – though he'd been unable to locate her, which unsettled him to no end. He liked to be sure of her location every second of every day, which might have seemed controlling to some… but, to him, it was a necessity as he wouldn't be able to function if he couldn't protect her. And protecting her meant constantly knowing where she was. He already knew he was going to find it difficult being without her for a while… adding extra time to his punishment did nothing for his fragile mood.

"Sweetheart," he called out, having not yet found her anywhere.

"I'm in here, Angel," he heard her call to him softly, and he moved towards her voice, going into his bedroom. But she was not immediately apparent to him and he had to think for a moment before he lowered himself to the floor and looked under his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, seeing her lying there, staring up at the underside of the bed.

Without looking over, she sighed and shook her head. "I'm hiding."

"You are going to breathe in dust," he pointed out, though he crawled under the bed with her and took her hand in his, letting them lie on the floor between them.

"Only if I breathe at all…"

"Oh, darling," he murmured, hating what this had done to her. "I love you," he whispered eventually.

Not long after, while they lay in silence, the doorbell unceremoniously rang and both of them knew immediately who it would be. So they turned their heads to face each other and they shared a look no other could interpret, moving closer together, whether consciously or not. "Whatever happens," Christine whispered, "you will always have me."

Laughing to hide his terrible worry, he tried desperately to present her with a believable smile… and failed miserably. "When I am sharing a cell with a toothless, bald-headed thug who enjoys staring at me, then you can tell me that again."

"Angel… just think of me and how I love you… I will be waiting for you when you return."

"Of course I'll think of you… as if I have any choice in the matter. You are always on my mind in some way or another." Pressing a light kiss against her lips, he looked at her beautiful face one final time and then helped her out from under the bed. "Here we go…"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2006

I was quite surprised to realise just now that we're pretty near the end of this one, you know... that's kind of sad. There's several chapters left and everything... maybe even ten, but... I don't know...

Please leave a review…


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